Every fairy tale teaches us that happiness comes after the dragon has been slain. They never speak of what happens when the dragon survives, nor do they mention the men who return with torches after the story has ended, eager to finish the work the monster had begun.

Peace is a fragile thing, it asks for very little of the world, only that the world leave it alone.

History has never been particularly kind to such requests. There are those who believe evil dies once it has been driven out, but fear is a curious creature, it rarely leaves with the monster.

More often, it stays behind. It gathers around dinner tables, beneath church roofs, sharpens axes in barns, until one morning it convinces otherwise decent men that cruelty is righteousness.

There is a peculiar sort of happiness that asks for no witness. It is not the kind sung about in great halls, the kind immortalized in painted glass, it has no desire to be remembered by history. It lives instead within ordinary things, that is why it is so easily overlooked.

You stood upon the little stool Leon had carved for you only a fortnight before, your fingertips carefully tying bundles of drying plants to one of the rafters overhead. "It is crooked." you declared, leaning back to inspect your work.

"It is."

You looked over your shoulder. "And you are not going to tell me?"

Leon rested another split log beside the chopping block before driving the axe cleanly through the next. The sound echoed between the trees. "You seemed pleased with it."

"I was."

"Then why should I interfere?"

A reluctant smile found your lips. "You encourage my bad habits."

"I encourage your happiness."

You shook your head, pretending to sigh as you climbed carefully back down from the stool. "You always know how to answer."

"I have had many years to practice."

"Not with me."

"No." A softer smile touched him then. "Not with you."

You crossed the clearing with slow steps, brushing stray leaves from your skirts. The hem caught against the grass, still damp from the morning dew. "You make it difficult to scold you."

"I know."

"And— You enjoy that."

"I do."

You reached him at last, brushing a speck of sawdust from his bare chest. "There."

He glanced down. "I am much improved."

"I should hope so."

His hand found the small of your back without thought, drawing you just a little closer. It had become second nature now.

The breeze wandered lazily through the clearing as Leon leaned down to kiss your lips softly. Somewhere beyond the trees, a squirrel scolded no one in particular.

You laughed quietly. "I think he disapproves of us."

"He disapproves of everyone."

"Even you?"

"Especially me."

"You have offended a squirrel?"

"I suspect.. I looked at him the wrong way this morning."

Your laughter answered. Leon watched you with that same fondness he had never quite learned to conceal. What a silly wolf.

"I shall not be long."

You smiled as Leon gathered your face between his hands, his thumbs brushing absentmindedly over your cheeks the way they always did before he ventured deeper into the forest.

"You always say that..."

"Because it has always been true." His forehead rested briefly against yours. "I shall return before the sun begins to sink."

"I know... Still, I will miss you."

He kissed you once, as no morning ought to begin without it. When he finally drew away, he hesitated. "What is it?" you asked.

"Nothing." There was the faintest crease between his brows, gone almost as soon as it appeared. You reached up, smoothing it away with your thumb.

"You worry too much."

"I have spent many centuries learning that worry often keeps one alive."

"But you found me."

Something softened in his expression.

"I did."

He kissed your forehead once more before stepping back.

"I shall return soon, my sweet girl."

For another moment he simply looked at you then he disappeared between the trees until the pale gold of his hair had vanished beneath the endless green.

The day slipped into afternoon. You had grown to love that hour most for it belonged to no one.

The little cabin felt no emptier in his absence.

It still had him everywhere, his cloak hung beside the door, his sharp axe rested against the chopping block, one of his shirts laid folded neatly upon the table where you had mended the sleeve only yesterday. You smiled to yourself because he would tear it again, you know.

Outside, the breeze stirred gently through the pines. You gathered your basket, humming a little melody as you wandered no farther than you ever had before. Wild thyme grew just beyond the clearing, and mushrooms beside the brook where the ground stayed damp even through the warmest days. You crouched amongst the flowers, cutting only what you needed, telling quiet apologies to the stems you left behind.

"You will grow back.." you promised them.

The basket slowly filled. You brushed the dirt from your palms as you stood.

The world was still, not unnaturally so. Simply.. still. You tilted your face toward the canopy. "I suppose you've all found somewhere prettier to sing." The birds had done that before so you thought nothing of it.

Turning back toward home, you had taken three steps before something caught hard around your ankle. Your balance vanished and the basket flew from your hand. Everything scattered across the ground. For one bewildered second you thought you had stumbled over a root. Then someone seized the back of your dress and he fabric bit painfully into your throat as you were wrenched backward. The rough rocks struck your knees first then your hands as stone tore through your palms.

You gasped, twisting instinctively, but another force slammed into your shoulder, sending you flat against the forest floor before you had even understood what was happening.

Your mouth opened soundlessly. A boot pressed between your shoulders, pinning you where you lay. "Hold her!"

The voice sounded human. Another pair of hands caught your wrists roughly

"No—" The word dissolved as your cheek scraped against the earth, dirt filled your mouth, someone pulled your arms behind your back ans pain shot through your body.

You kicked wildly, striking nothing but air before your heel connected with someone's shin. A curse rang through the trees.

The weight on your back doubled. "Keep her still!"

Your heart beat so violently you thought it might burst.

You could not see them, only boots and mud and the hem of dark robes. A wooden cross swinging wildly from a man's neck.

You tried again to scream. "Leon!" The name tore itself from your throat.

No answer came only another rough hand catching a fistful of your hair pulling your head backward until tears sprang instantly to your eyes.

"There she is." someone breathed. "The witch.."

"No—" you choked. "Please.!"

"Poor child." The voice was almost gentle but it made your blood run cold. "You needn't fear anymore." A length of coarse rope bit into your wrists. "You've been under the beast's spell long enough."

You stared at him. Spell? Your thoughts would not gather, nothing made sense. You looked desperately toward the clearing.

Someone stooped to retrieve the overturned basket. He looked at its contents with disgust before emptying it onto the ground, then the basket was crushed beneath his boot.

"Take her."

The forest did not protest. It had watched kingdoms rise and crumble. Men had come with axes, with fire, with prayers upon their lips and blood upon their hands and it had outlived every one of them.

Yet for the first time in many years, something precious had been torn from its heart. The little basket lay where it had fallen, one ribbon loosened from your hair in the struggle had caught upon a low branch, the cabin door stood open as the pie cooling on the table remained untouched. Nothing inside the little home knew its mistress would not be returning.

Leon came back not long before dusk, a young stag slung effortlessly across his shoulders. He smiled to himself as he crossed the clearing, already imagining the little frown that would appear between your brows when you saw the state of his boots.

"You will scold me again.." he said beneath his breath. "And then pretend you were never upset at all."

His eyes drifted past the broken basket almost absently at first, still searching for the pale blue of your skirts between the trees. Perhaps you had wandered farther than usual. Or maybe you had heard him returning and decided, for reasons known only to yourself, to tease him with another little game of hide and seek.

"You have become terribly bold!" he called with a smile that had already begun to fade. "Come now, my sweet. I know you are somewhere close.."

Only when he stooped to right the basket did he notice how badly it had been crushed. One side had splintered completely, the wicker stained dark. His fingers lingered there before his gaze followed the disturbed ground a little farther on.

There was blood, enough to soak into the moss and gather in the grooves between the roots, where the forest floor had drunk greedily from it. Branches had been snapped at shoulder height and the ferns were flattened. Something had struggled here. Someone.

His hand closed around the little ribbon caught amongst the broken wicker. "No.."

His eyes darted wildly across the clearing as though you might step from behind one of the trees at any moment, laughing at the poor jest you had carried too far. "My sweet?"

He took another few hurried steps, following the churned earth until the trail simply ended beneath a dozen overlapping footprints.

"No!" This time it sounded strained. "Enough! You have frightened me enough!"

Leon dropped to one knee, pressing his palm into the blood soaked dirt. His nostrils flared sharply. He could smell your fear, he could smell the salt of your tears, he could smell where they had laid their hands upon you.

The growl that escaped him was unlike anything human. It rolled deep through his chest, low enough to make the branches overhead tremble as birds burst from the canopy all at once.

"No!" His fingers tightened around the ribbon until the silk tore between his claws. "I left you.. I left you alone." Another breath drew through his nose, shuddering as your scent tangled with blood, smoke, and the stink of strange men. "They touched you.."

His shoulders lurched violently. Bone shifted beneath skin with a sickening crack. He bent forward, one hand digging deeply into the earth that roots splintered beneath his claws. "Laid their filthy hands upon you!"

His spine arched unnaturally, muscles twisting beneath his flesh as though something immense struggled to free itself from the prison of a human shape. "I should have buried that cursed village beneath these mountains when I first found you!"

His jaw snapped sharply to one side, then the other. A guttural groan tore from deep within "I— showed them mercy."

His words dissolved into a growl as his ribs widened with another grotesque series of cracks, his hands sinking deeper into the moss while claws lengthened against the stone. "And they answered it with this? The crows shall grow fat before my grief is spent!"

His breathing became ragged, faster, hungrier.

"They will beg their god to make the earth swallow them before I am through."

Bones split and reformed beneath taut skin, tendons strained. "And when I am finished, mothers will frighten their children with my name." His back rose higher and higher until the last remnants of the man who had kissed your forehead that morning disappeared beneath coarse fur.

"I shall teach them what beast they have stolen from." One final howl cut the evening, then the wolf ran.

By the time they hauled you into the village square, the last of the daylight had begun to dissipate across the rooftops. The church bell rang once, then again. Its heavy toll rolled over the village until doors began to open. People emerged slowly, clutching rosaries, little wooden crosses, prayer books worn soft with age. Mothers pulled their children close as fathers stood before them, shoulders squared as though preparing for war.

The preacher stood upon the old stone well at the centre of the square, his hands lifted toward the heavens. "Our prayers have been answered." A murmur rippled through the gathering. "The Lord has returned His lost lamb to us."

"Amen."

"Amen."

"Amen."

You struggled weakly against the ropes biting into your wrists. "I am not lost!"

The preacher's voice only grew louder. "For months we have mourned the loss of Father Aldren, the closest thing this village ever knew to a servant of God.." His eyes swept over the crowd before settling upon you. "And who slew him?"

"The beast!" several voices answered.

"Who desecrated the church?"

"The beast!"

"Who stole this poor child from her mother's embrace?"

"The beast! The abomination!"

You shook your head desperately. "No! No, that is not what happened!"

One of the men behind you struck the back of your knees and you fell hard upon the cobblestones. "The Devil does not enjoy being contradicted, you see."

Pain shot through your legs, but you forced yourself upright. "He never stole me!" you cried. "I went with him willingly!"

A horrified gasp swept through the square. The preacher closed his eyes. "You hear it.." His voice was almost mournful. "The corruption has rooted itself deep!"

"No!"

"He has poisoned her soul!"

"He is my husband!" The words tore themselves from your throat before fear could swallow them. "Do you hear me? I am his wife!"

A sharp crack echoed through the square as your head snapped sideways. The taste of blood bloomed across your tongue.

A woman hurriedly covered her little daughter's ears. Another crossed herself. "The Devil speaks through her.." someone whispered.

"No..." Tears spilled freely down your bruised face. "Please— Please listen.."

The preacher stepped down from the well until he stood only a few paces away. He stepped down from the well until only a few paces separated the two of you. He looked upon your bruised face before turning sharply back toward the crowd.

"Look at her!" His voice rang across the square. "And look well!"

People leaned forward, children peeked from behind their fathers.

"This..." He pointed at you as though you were no more than an animal dragged in from the hunt. "This is what becomes of those who forsake the Lord!" A chorus of amens answered him.

"To hell with the beast!"

"No!" You lurched against the ropes, nearly losing your footing. "He never forced me!" A fist crashed into your stomach and air fled your lungs. You doubled over with a broken gasp. "He is my husband—" you managed between breaths. "I chose him.."

The preacher threw both hands into the air. "You hear it!" His face twisted with righteous fury. "She speaks of the beast as though he were a man!"

"He is!" Another blow. Your lip split anew against your teeth. "I am his lo-lover, his wife!"

The square erupted. "She belongs on the pyre!"

The preacher smiled victorious. Your head snapped upward.

"Your mother waited. She waited for the daughter stolen from her."

The crowd murmured, women weeping.

"She begged God every night to send you home."

"I—I.."

"She died with your name upon her lips, yet you were not there to close her eyes. You were not there to bury her."

"No.. Stop it—"

"You were lying beside a monster while your own mother was laid beneath the earth!"

A cry tore itself from your throat, your sobs breaking against the empty square as the cold stones beneath your knees greedily drank your tears.

The preacher turned slowly toward the villagers.

"Do you see?" He spread his arms wide. "Even now the Devil clings to her!"

"I love hi-him!" you sobbed, barely able to breathe. "He loves me!"

A man spat at your feet. "Beast's whore!" As several others laughed.

The preacher raised his hand once more. "She threatens the souls of every child in this village."

As though summoned by the words, a little boy peered timidly from behind his mother's skirts and his eyes found yours. They were frightened but curious. You looked back at him through tears, your swollen lips trembling into the faintest, most broken smile you could manage.

The boy frowned. "Mama.."

"What is it?"

"Why is she crying..?"

The woman looked from her son to you. For the briefest instant, pity flickered across her face.

Then the preacher's voice boomed through the square. "Do not let your children look upon her!"

The woman gasped, yanking the little boy behind her so sharply he stumbled.

"Down!" she hissed. "Eyes down!"

"But Mama–"

"She'll poison your soul!" The little boy buried his face against his mother's skirts.

The preacher watched the exchange with quiet satisfaction. He turned slowly, addressing not you, but every soul gathered in the square. "The serpent has no fangs of its own." He pointed toward you. "It borrows ours."

His gaze swept over the frightened children. "It smiles. It weeps. It speaks with the gentle voice of a beautiful woman. And before you know it.." He spread his hands. "Your own child calls evil love."

"Amen."

"Amen."

The man descended the final step. His boots stopped an arm's length before you. You refused to lower your eyes and for that alone, he smiled.

"So much pride." His hand shot forward without warning. Fingers buried themselves in your hair, wrenching your head back so sharply a cry slid past your bloody teeth.

"There." He studied your face as though searching for something beneath your human skin. "Can you hear Him?"

Your breathing came ragged.

"L—et go."

"Pray!" The word rang loud and ugly. "Pray with me, child."

You glared up at him through tear stained lashes.

"Ask the Lord's forgiveness." His grip tightened. "Show Him there yet remains the smallest ember of holiness within your soul."

He leaned closer, his voice dropping low enough that only those nearest could hear. "I would spare you if I could. But first..." As he gave your hair another cruel tug. "The beast must loosen his grip upon your heart."

Around you, the villagers had already begun.

"Our Father, who art in Heaven..." One voice became five then five became twenty. Soon the entire square was praying. Louder, louder still.

The preacher looked down at you expectantly. "Pray."

But you said nothing.

"Pray." His jaw tightened. "I said—"

You drew in one slow breath then spat. Blood and saliva struck his cheek. The crimson slowly slid down his face. For a moment, he simply stared at you and you met his gaze without flinching.

"He— has shown me more grace with blood upon his hands." Your voice trembled, though not with fear. "You are a coward dressed as a holy man! If this is the face of God's servant.." you whispered, your eyes burning into his "Th-Then I should sooner kneel before the Devil."

The preacher wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, turning the bloodstained flesh toward the villagers as he began. "The beast has taught her well."

The preacher had only just opened his mouth to speak again when shouting erupted from the far end of the square.

"Father!"

The crowd parted instinctively as two watchmen came stumbling between them, breathless, one clutching his side where he'd clearly fallen in his haste.

"Father.." one gasped. "He's here."

"Who?"

"The Beast."

"I saw him!" the younger watchman cried. "By the treeline! He's watching us!"

The preacher slowly lifted one hand. At once, the panic quieted. "Do not loose your arrows."

The hunters stared at him. "But Father—"

"I said." His voice rang like thunder. "Do not loose your arrows."

"He'll slaughter us."

"Let him come." Several heads turned toward him in disbelief. "Today..." he continued "The Lord Himself shall judge between beast and man."

The wolf was here. The crowd slowly parted, leaving the road to the forest completely bare. Nobody breathed for nobody dared to.

Beyond the final row of cottages, where the pines swallowed the last of the evening light, something moved. Branches bowed aside before him like loyal followers.

Several villagers immediately fell to their knees.

"Oh merciful Father..." Another man crossed himself over and over, his lips moving in frantic prayer. "He is enormous.."

Leon stood at the edge of the trees carved from the mountain itself. His silver coat was soaked dark in places where branches and stone had torn through skin during his desperate pursuit, blood disappearing beneath thick fur. His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, each one curling pale mist into the cooling air.

All of it ceased to exist when there you were, bruised, bound with blood upon your face.

"Leon.. Don't—"

His ears twitched as the only sign he had heard you at all.

"So." His voice carried through the silence. "The wolf comes to reclaim what he believes belongs to him?"

Leon did not answer. His lips peeled back just enough to reveal the gleam of impossibly long fangs, the expression of a starving wolf's might.

The preacher did not take his eyes off the wolf. A smile spread across his face. "Untie her."

Several hunters hesitated. "Father.."

"I said untie her." Just like that the ropes fell away from your wrists.

"Leon—!" Your legs gave beneath you and you stumbled across the square, scraping your knees against the stones.

"Leon.." He never took his eyes off the men surrounding you. Only when you reached him did his great head lower. You threw your arms around his neck, burying your face into the thick silver fur. "Oh, Leon.."

A soft, aching whine rumbled from somewhere deep within his chest. His tongue brushed the blood from your cheek. Your hands buried themselves in his coat.

"I'm here.." you whispered through tears. "I'm here." His enormous body shifted, placing itself between you and the village without thinking.

Behind you the preacher lowered one hand.

And so, the bowstring sang. Your scream never had the chance to leave your throat.

The arrow buried itself deep beneath Leon's shoulder with a sickening sound.

His howl split the evening and the mountains answered. Pain overtook him, then the instinct to shield. His enormous body lurched sideways despite the hurt, forcing itself between you and the village. One foreleg buckled beneath him, but he planted the other, lowering himself over you until all you could see was silver fur and blood.

Another arrow could not reach you, not while he still breathed.

"Leon!" you sobbed.

His breath shuddered, he barely seemed to hear. The muscles along his back trembled violently as he searched the crowd, ears flattened, lips peeled back over crimson teeth.

One more step, and another. He tried to drive them back but his legs gave. The blood was coming far too quickly so the great wolf staggered once before the magic began to unravel. Bone shifted beneath skin and the monstrous frame folded inward with awful cracks until Leon collapsed into your arms, his breathing ragged, blood soaking the front of his shirt.

"My fawn.." His voice was so small. You caught his face between bloody hands. "I am here."

His eyes found yours. "Do not cry.."

The preacher stepped forward, his voice ringing across the deathly silent square. "Behold!"

He pointed toward the bleeding man in your embrace. "The abomination that desecrated God's house!"

He looked down upon Leon with open contempt.

"Look well. This is the monster she chose over her own salvation."

You stared at the arrow slick with Leon's blood as the monster's words rang empty. "I'm sorry.." Leon's eyes widened ever so slightly because he knew. Before he could stop you, you wrenched the shaft free. Leon cried out as the arrow teared through meat and flesh.

The sound shattered whatever remained of you.

"I'm s-sorry.." you sniffled, your hands slick with his blood. "I'm so, so sorry.."

His fingers caught weakly at your wrist.

"My sweet fawn.."

You looked at him one last time then you stood. No one moved to stop you. Perhaps they thought you meant to surrender, perhaps they believed you too broken to do anything at all.

The preacher smiled. "There now.." he said, opening his arms as though welcoming you back into the fold. "The Lord's light has finally reached your heart. Come, child."

The bloodied arrow hung limp in your hand.

"You have suffered greatly.." he continued. "But He is merciful! Kneel before—"

His words vanished into a startled gasp as you drove the arrow into his throat.

His eyes searched yours, wide with confusion, with disbelief, as though he could not fathom how the frightened little girl he once pitied had become the thing standing over him now. His lips parted, but only wet, choking gurgles escaped as blood spilled down his chin.

You pulled the arrow free and struck again.

And Again. Again. Again!

Each blow came with another cry of your own, shoulders shaking so violently you could barely keep your footing. "You—" you choked, driving the shaft forward once more. "You hurt him!" Another strike. "You dared to hurt him!" Another. "You hurt.." Your voice broke completely. "My husband..."

The preacher stumbled backward, his robes darkening as he tried to raise a hand toward you. The monster's body struck the cobblestones with a dull and final thud.

The arrow slipped from your fingers. For a long moment you simply stood there as blood dripped from your hands.

Slowly, you turned. The entire square stared back at you. The hunters still held their bows, yet not a single one remembered how to draw the string.

Your chest rose and fell in ragged breaths as tears still streamed down your bloody and blossoming face.

"You wanted a beast..?" You took a single step toward them. Immediately, three men stumbled backward. "You wanted one? Come." Your voice cracked. "Come and see one.."

But no one moved. "Come!" The scream birthed itself from somewhere so deep inside of you that it didn't sound human.

A little girl burst into terrified sobs. One of the hunters looked desperately toward the preacher's body, waiting. Waiting for an order that would never come.

Their shepherd lay dead and their certainty had died beside him. The square, so full of righteous fury only moments before, suddenly felt very small, very quiet and very afraid.

You looked from one face to the next. Faces that had watched them beat you, that had cheered, that had called your husband a devil. Not one of them met your eyes now.

"Sweet girl..."

Heart lunching, you spun around at once.

Leon had managed to push himself halfway upright before his strength deserted him again, one blood soaked hand pressed uselessly against the wound in his chest. "Leon, do not move.."

Both hands found his face, brushing blood matted strands of hair away from his brow. "Can you stand?" you whispered.

He tried but his knees buckled almost immediately, a pained sound escaping him.

"I-I've got you," you whispered, gathering him into your arms as though nothing else in the world existed. "I've got you.."

His forehead rested against yours. Even now, with the square frozen in horrified silence, his only concern was you. "My brave.." he began, his voice barely there. A faint smile was on his lips despite the pain. "My brave girl of the moon.."

You gathered him against your chest, letting him rest where your heartbeat was strongest, and through trembling lips you sang the very melody that had once guided a frightened little girl through the same woods he had watched over for centuries, long before you had ever known the wolf's name.

Far where the spring begins and winter ends..

Caught on a death-ill wind, the river bends.

A dear woodpecker that sings my plight,

Of one thirsty summer, when one had might.

The rain that knows my sorrow, the willow tree...

Has its roots of autumn remember me.

You take a deep breath as tears fall upon his still, but barely, smiling face. You brushed the hair from his face with careful fingers as you continued.

So sleep, my dearest child, your mother's here.

As flowers bloom with life, no monster's near.

The sound of midnight stars shall keep us safe.

None shall hurt thee, dear, in mother's wake..

The last note lingered only for a moment before the forest claimed it. You rested your forehead against his, crying. "You promised—" you whispered with a smile that fought apart beneath fresh tears. "You promised you'd never leave me alone again.."

Still, the wind had no answer.

Your stomach tightened immediately. “Now?” You asked, despite already knowing the answer.

“Yes, your highness. He said it was urgent.”

You exhaled slowly, forcing yourself to steady. Of course it was urgent. You rose from the bed, shakily smoothing down your night gown and trying to ignore the way your thoughts immediately spiraled. Whatever your father wanted, it couldn’t be worse than what your imagination was suggesting.

He couldn’t have possibly found out. Gojo hadn’t pushed anymore after the ball, and Geto certainly wasn’t foolish enough to announce what had happened. The garden was secluded, hidden behind hedges and vines. No one had seen you.

The reassurance did little to settle your nerves. As you dressed for the day, your father’s summons lingered at the forefront of your mind, turning every possibility into something malevolent.

You left your chambers and made your way through the palace corridors. Servants hurried past with food trays and armfuls of linens, bowing politely as you passed. Normally, the familiar morning bustle would be comforting but today it only made you feel more exposed.

By the time you reached your father’s wing of the palace, your stomach was twisted into knots. You sounded a soft knock on those massive wooden doors, the juxtaposition of the sound against the grand doors almost feeling laughable.

“Enter.”

You stepped inside, offering a respectful bow. Your father sat behind his desk, his posture as rigid as his personality. No matter how old you’ve gotten, the fear that you harbor for your father had never gone away. Whispers of the king during wartime followed him for years, weaving themselves into court gossip and soldiers’ tales alike. They spoke of a ruler whose mercy was scarce and whose judgment was absolute. A king who never hesitated to take the life of anyone who stepped in his way.

As a child, the truth of those stories had terrified you.

As an adult, they still did.

“Father,” you greeted quietly, somewhat afraid that your responses would anger him.

His sharp eyes lifted from the documents scattered across his desk. “Sit.”

The command was calm, yet you obeyed without question, lowering yourself into the chair opposite of him. A heavy silence stilled between you as your father studied you for a moment, his expression as unreadable as his eyes.

“There is a matter we need to discuss.”

The seriousness in his tone pulled the knot in your stomach even tighter than before. You straightened slightly, “W-What is it?”

He folded his hands atop his desk, pursing his lips lightly. “Our negotiations with the northern kingdom have concluded.”

You paused, fighting the urge to break your poker face. “I wasn’t aware they were ongoing.”

“They are no longer.”

Something about the way he said it made a razor sharp feeling of unease crawl up your spine. Your father leaned back in his chair, never once looking away from you. “You will be relocating there within the next month.”

The words landed with crushing force, your throat tightening painfully like something was lodged inside. “…I’m sorry?”

“You heard me,” he declared, his expression never faltering as he looked at you like you were nothing more than some poor servant girl.

Your heart sank, within a month you would leave behind everything you’ve ever known. Your palace, your bedroom, your precious garden. You felt small compared to him, your word meant absolutely nothing to him. There was no other option but to obey, he wouldn’t even think twice about saying no to a compromise.

“Okay,” you whispered, staring down at the floor like it could swallow you up and save you from this moment.

“You may leave,” your father ordered, sparing you one last look before focusing back on the hundreds of documents scattered around his desk.

You stood up, hesitating in the door way. You sulked like a little girl, the weight of his words hung down on your shoulders like two heavy stones. You let out a shaky exhale, two small teardrops escaping before you could blink them away. Your fingers curled on the doorknob before moving out of his study.

Your footsteps felt heavier on the way back to your chambers, everything blurred together like a color swatch on one of your royal portraits. Within the safety of distance, your composure started to fracture.

It was unfair—how easily the decision had been spoken. How easily your freedom was cast away. You turned a corner too quickly, nearly brushing past a passing attendant, but you didn’t stop to apologize. You couldn’t. If you did, you weren’t sure you’d be able to even speak clearly.

By the time you reached your wing, your hands shook. You pushed your door open and stepped inside your room, letting it close behind you. Your breath came unevenly as you crossed your room, ripping off the corset that strangled your ribcage.

Then you stopped.

Something was there, laying on your windowsill.

A delicate envelope, sealed with a black wax seal. There was no name nor address on the envelope, absolutely nothing to indicate who the person who wrote this was. It wasn’t a royal seal or one of your father’s court, it wasn’t from anyone that should be able to reach you.

You furrowed your brows, lifting the envelope in the direction of light shining through your open window. You picked open the seal and unfolded the piece of paper inside.

The parchment was smooth, smoother than any paper you’ve ever touched. The ink was dark and deliberate, the handwriting completely flawless. Your fingers tightened slightly at the edges as you began to scan the words.

My princess,

If you are reading this, I’m assuming you are alone. Completely alone.

I have spent the better part of today attempting to convince myself that what happened last night was nothing more than a pleasant distraction. Yet, I haven’t been able to get my mind off of you since you left me under that willow tree last night.

It is a rather humiliating thing to admit, considering we have scarcely known each other a day and you’re betrothed, but every thought seems to find its way back to you. I remember the sound of your voice more clearly than conversations I have held for years. I remember the way your lips felt against my own. Most troubling of all, I remember how reluctant I was to let you go.

I should be satisfied with one single evening and leave it as one fond memory, I’ve tried but I’ve failed miserably. I find myself wondering what you are doing at this very moment. Whether you’ve even thought of me or that kiss at all.

Perhaps I’m a fool. If so, indulge me in one more act of foolishness.

Meet me tonight at dusk on the east side of your palace, near the hidden lakeside pavilion. If you do not come, I’ll accept that I’ve imagined something more than what it really was.

If you do come, I wish for the chance to get to know you beyond a stolen evening and mask. Until then, I remain hopelessly distracted by the thought of you.

There was no name on the note but you knew who it was from, Geto. A sigh escaped your lips as you massaged your temples, the folded parchment resting in your lap. You should have thrown it into the fireplace, that would’ve been the sensible thing to do. Instead, your fingers traced the edges of the envelope, lingering on the wax seal he had perfectly placed just for you.

Something in your stomach fluttered at that thought.

Curiosity won, despite your clear efforts to fight it back. You unfolded the paper once again, your eyes drifting over his elegant handwriting.

You pressed your lips together, staring at the words. The man had known you for less than a day, yet the words felt painfully sincere and intimate. The corners of your mouth betrayed you with a faint, giddy smile.

Your smile drifted as reality set upon your shoulders. Your father would never approve, your husband certainly wouldn’t. Despite these circumstances, your thoughts drifted to that little pavilion past the east wing of your palace.

A knock sounding from your door interrupted your thoughts. “One second!” You shouted, stuffing the note under your pillow.

“It’s me, your highness,” Nanami informed. “May I come in?”

“Yep!” You replied, shuffling to act like you were busy with something.

Nanami stepped inside your room, shutting the door as gently as possible. “I’ve come to inform you that you have brunch with Prince Gojo in roughly 20 minutes,” he told, briefly glancing at the watch on his wrist. You huffed, giving him a look that told Nanami you’d rather do anything else.

“It’s mandatory.”

“I know,” you sighed, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s fine, really. I just hope they have my favorite fruit tarts.”

“I’m positive they couldn’t forget again after the fit you threw last year,” Nanami joked, still standing awkwardly near your door.

“I was having a bad day,” you defended, snorting lightly. “Will you sit down somewhere and stop looking so out of place?” You said with a laugh.

“I’ll have to be going soon, I have other duties beside your well being, your highness,” he added, the faintest hint of amusement hidden in his voice.

A quiet disappointment settled in your chest before you could stop it. “Of course,” you continued, “are you ever going to stop with the formalities, Ken?”

One of Nanami’s brows quirked up, “No.”

You groaned, palming your face in your hand. “Come on, we’ve known each other since we were kids.”

“You are still a princess.”

You sneered at him, “You didn’t use titles when I was 13.”

“You also used to hide frogs in my desk when you were 13,” he deadpanned. You gasped playfully, clutching your chest. “That happened once!”

“It happened over three times.”

“Allegedly,” you added, shaking your head in disapproval. Nanami sighed, though there was no real irritation behind it.

“Regardless, your highness. Some habits are difficult to break.”

You folded your arms across your chest. “And calling me by my title every other sentence isn’t a habit?”

“It is,” he faintly shrugged.

“Then break that one?”

“I’ll consider it.”

“You won’t.”

A faint smile appeared on his tired face, “No, I won’t.” The answer came so quickly that you couldn’t help but laugh in his face.

For a brief moment, the unease that had followed you since the meeting with your father eased from your shoulders. Nanami had always possessed a strange talent for grounding you, even when he was being impossibly stubborn.

His expression softened slightly. “Now, I suggest you start getting ready for your brunch. Looks like I’ve cut down your time to 15 minutes.”

The reminder was enough to make the warmth leave your chest. “Right.”

“It’ll be okay,” he kindly said before leaving you alone in your room. A frustrated sigh escaped you, but you were grateful none of your maids had rushed in to help you get ready.

Inside your mind, you were already refusing to put on any corset for the brunch. Your mother would just have to suck it up. She always insisted that you wear one daily, to ‘keep up your look’. Quite frankly, you thought it was unnecessary and uncomfortable.

You scurried to your wardrobe, skimming through dresses. Soft fabrics brushed against your fingertips as you passed gowns in muted pastels, deep jewel tones, and the occasional elaborate piece reserved for court appearances you’d rather avoid.

Despite the copious amount of clothing you had, nothing felt quite right. Your fingers paused on a lighter dress tucked slightly behind the others. It was simpler than the rest: a soft green with faint gold threaded along the hem and sleeves. Looked rather comfortable too.

You pulled it free and held it up against yourself in your mirror, quietly admiring the way the green looked against your skin tone. The neckline was modest, the sleeves short and breathable. It wasn’t meant to impress anyone and that was enough comfort for you to throw it on your body.

You dressed quickly, smoothing the fabric as you went. With a press of a couple pins in your hair, you were ready for a torturous breakfast. A sudden knock at your door pulled you from your appearance.

“Come in!” You called, smoothing down your dress once more. It was Shoko, the head maid, who came quietly into your bedroom.

“Your highness, I’ve came in here to make sure you’re ready for the brunch with the Prince,” she informed softly. “Are you?”

Shoko Ieiri was your personal favorite servant, her calm demeanor and sharp wit made her a welcome presence among the suffocating formalities of palace life. She reminded you of an older sister you’d never had, like someone you can go to no matter what.

“Yes, I’ve gotten ready myself today,” you replied, sending a soft smile in her direction.

Her eyes lit up slightly at your appearance. “The dress is beautiful, your highness,” she said, coming up behind you in your mirror. “You’ve grown so much, I can’t believe you’re married now.”

You looked down at the solid gold ring that sat on your ring finger. A soft sigh escaped your lips, “Me neither.”

Shoko frowned, brushing aside a piece of hair from your forehead. Somehow, she knew everything you were feeling by one look. Maybe it was the friendship you two harbored since you were little children, clueless of titles that determined your lifestyle.

“Come on,” she muttered. “It’s time to go.” She gave you one last understanding glance before pulling the chamber door open. The chatter of servants and the distant echo of footsteps instantly flooded into the room, reminding you once again that your brief moment of solitude would have to come to an end.

You nodded your head and stepped out your room, greeting the guards outside of your room with a smile. They immediately straightened, bowing in synchronization.

The palace halls were already alive with the daily bustle you were used to. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, spilling golden patterns across marble floors. You winced as the light hit your face, holding up your hand to shield your eyes.

You smoothed your dress as you walked, trying to ignore the small flutter of nerves in your chest. It was only brunch with Gojo. Your husband. A simple meal between two betrothed strangers.

You had actually spoken to Gojo a few times before being engaged, all of your interactions being at lavish galas and balls. It was enough to know he possessed an effortless charm to every woman that even glanced his way. He was so quick with a joke or flirtatious remark, so it wasn’t a surprise when your father announced the engagement(considering the massive amount of rivalry between your father and Gojo’s father).

The rivalry had been brewing for decades, passed down from generation to generation. It finally ended up blowing over last winter when a violent dispute over trade routes erupted into open conflict. Soldiers amassed over each border as whispers of war echoed through every noble court.

Neither kingdom could afford it, even if Gojo’s kingdom was more wealthy than yours. That winter had been significantly unforgiving, harvests were poor, villagers were hypothermic and dying from famine. Both crowns knew that prolonged conflict wouldn’t do them any good, so peace became the only sensible pass.

The peace treaty was drafted within days, its final condition written in the most elegant ink at the bottom of the parchment. A marriage: his eldest one and your father’s only daughter. Two signatures were all it took to end years of hostility. And with them, your future had been decided.

The dining hall doors loomed over you. Two well equipped guards stood perched in front of them, awaiting for your arrival. You bowed briefly, sparing a quick smile.

“Your highness,” they said, perfectly in sync. The towering doors swung open, revealing the dining hall bathed in gentle sunshine. Unlike the grand banquets held in this very room, only a small section of the endless table had been prepared. Fine porcelain rested atop crisp ivory linens, polished silver gleamed beneath crystal glasses, and an assortment of fresh fruit, warm pastries, honey, cheeses, and tea had been carefully arranged between bouquets of white lilies.

It almost felt…intimate.

You had to bite back a scowl as your gaze drifted to the lone figure sitting at one of the two seats that had been prepared. Gojo lounged comfortably in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the carved wooden armrest as if the whole palace belonged to him. His white hair sat unruly atop his head, almost the complete opposite of the way you saw him last night.

At the sound of the doors closing, those unmistakable cerulean eyes lifted to meet yours. A familiar grin spread across his face. “There you are,” he smirked. “I was beginning to think you’d escaped through a window.”

You couldn’t help the amused smile tugging at your lips. “I’m afraid the guards would’ve noticed,” you added softly, trailing across the dining hall.

“They do tend to ruin all the fun, hm?” He said, rising to his feet. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he pulled out the seat across from him. “You look…beautiful,” he complimented, raking his eyes over your figure.

Hshdjdiridixjdjd

“Come,” he instructed. “I’ve been instructed not to begin without you, and I’ve already spent the last ten minutes arguing with the chef over whether it’s acceptable to eat pastries before the main course.”

“And who won?” You asked, sitting down on the chair he pulled out.

“The chef,” he sighed dramatically. “For now.”

You bit back a chuckle that threatened to escape you, shaking your head slightly. “Right.”

“Well,” he said, lounging back into his chair as a servant poured tea into his cup. “I think it’s time I get to know you, yeah?”

You blinked.

“All I have is observations,” he explained. “I have no clue who my wife is,” he added, his expression softening just enough for you to notice.

A soft sigh escaped from your lips, knowing deep inside that everything he said was right. You would have to get to know your husband sooner or later.

“What do you wish to know?” You asked plainly.

“Hmm.” He rested his chin on his hand, tilting his head as he studied you with exaggeration. It wasn’t long until his eyes lit up, like a lightbulb being turned on inside his brain. “Let’s start with an easy one! What’s your favorite color?”

You snorted at his enthusiasm, this is the man who has women from all over fawning over him? “I don’t have one,” you deadpanned.

His smile faltered. “What?”

“I said,” you cleared your throat. “I don’t have one.”

“That’s impossible, everyone has a favorite color,” he defended. “Like, my favorite color is blue, obviously.”

“It’s definitely not impossible, I’m living proof?” You shrugged, taking a bite of a pastry.

“There has to be one that stands out from all the others.”

You rolled his eyes at his stubbornness. “Okay, fine.”

He posture straightened instantly, eager to hear your answer. You could practically see an invisible tail wagging behind him.

“If I had to choose, it would be a light green,” you told.

“You look like a green person.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You defended, squinting your eyes at him.

“You just look like you like green.”

“Okay, forget it.” You said, rolling your eyes(though the smile on your lips contradicted that). “It’s only fair that I get to ask you something about yourself now.”

“Excellent,” he spread his arms dramatically. “Ask away, I have nothing to hide.”

“Nothing?”

“…very little.”

You raised a skeptical brow.

He sighed in defeat. “Nothing important.”

A quiet laugh escaped you. You rested your chin lightly against your palm, pretending to consider your options. There were countless questions you could ask. About his kingdom. His childhood. Whether he had wanted this marriage any more than you had.

You took one last bite of your pastry before dusting the crumbs from your fingertips. “What are some of your hobbies?”

His ivory lashes dusted over his eyes, blinking at you. “That’s your question?”

You nodded. “It seems reasonable.”

“I was wanting something scandalous,” he sighed dramatically. “Well, one of my favorite things to do is fencing. My father insisted on me learning before I could even spell.”

You faintly smiled, imagining the arrogant man as a little naive boy. “I’ve heard you’re quite good.” Despite the rivalry between your kingdoms, rumors never failed to spread to your land. Satoru Gojo—a universal fencing champion, being one of many.

“I’d certainly hope so after all these years,” he blurted, dragging a hand through his hair. He began counting on his fingers. “I enjoy riding whenever I can escape the palace, reading—only about things I don’t already know, and I also dabble in archery every now and then.”

“You read?”

He gave you an exaggerated look of offense. “Yeah, how shocking.”

“I just can’t imagine you sitting quietly with a book in your hand,” you snickered. “The more you know.”

“My parents couldn’t either,” he agreed, earning another snicker from you. “What are your hobbies?” He countered, sipping off his tea.

You sighed in thought. “I love to explore the palace—all the places left undiscovered,” you informed, fiddling with your hands. “I also enjoy reading poetry.”

Gojo rested his face in his hand, listening attentively as you went on about your hobbies. “Exploring the palace?” He asked. “is that what you were doing last night?”

Your hands stilled.

“I was.”

A knowing smile tugged at his lips, yet he didn’t seem to comment on whatever plagued him. “I thought so,” he replied. “You’ll have to take me with you sometime, yeah?”

“We’ll see,” you countered, sipping off your tea. “Will the entree be ready soon? I’m starving.” You said, trying your best to change the topic away from last night’s events.

As if on cue, the grand doors opened, it seemed like the universe was on your side today. A line of servants in practiced formation, each carrying a platter of arranged food. The fragrant aroma of freshly baked bread, roasted herbs, and butter drifted through the room at their arrival.

Gojo inhaled dramatically, “perfect timing.”

The servants carefully replaced the breakfast pastries with the main course, setting steaming plates before the two of you.

“Thank you so much, it looks amazing,” you said to the servants with the biggest smile you could conjure up. “I was beginning to think I’d have to raid the kitchens,” Gojo admitted.

You glanced at him over the rim of your cup. “Would a prince truly do that?” You replied.

“Oh, absolutely.”

You almost laughed. “And what would the Royal staff say about that?”

“They’d sigh,” he answered without missing a beat. “Then make me a plate anyway.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, “I can’t say I’m surprised.” You grabbed your silverware, slicing into the honey-glazed ham on your platter.

The conversation drifted easily after that, and you can’t say you were upset with it. Between bites, Gojo recounted a disastrous experience with his horse which ended in him having a broken leg and cracked ego, while you shared stories of getting lost around the palace. The longer you spoke, the less the silence between you seemed forced.

Before either of you realized it, the servants had already cleared away all empty dishes and replaced them with tea. Gojo leaned back in his chair with a contented sigh. “I think that was the best meal I’ve had in weeks.”

You scoffed, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “You’re from the wealthiest kingdom, you’re telling me they don’t give you good meals?”

Despite the wealth your kingdom carries, the Gojo clan has remained at the top for centuries. Their lands stretched farther than any realms, their ports overflowing with trade. The Gojo trading company logo even spread to your own kingdom, stamped on important crates and merchant ships. It was a quiet reminder that the Gojos’ reach extended far beyond their borders—whether your father liked it or not.

Gojo chuckled, peering at you through his cerulean eyes. “Oh, the food is excellent.”

“Then what’s the complaint?” You sneered, tilting your head. Was he seriously that spoiled?

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I never said it wasn’t good.”

“You implied it, no?”

“I merely said it was the best meal I’ve had in weeks,” he smirked, enjoying the feeling of proving you wrong. He bit into a fried croissant, closing his eyes dramatically.

“It tastes better when you’re enjoying it with someone.”

The words were so casually spoken that you almost missed them. You swallowed, “How smooth of you, Gojo.”

“I beg of you, address me as Satoru,” he pleaded, giving you a look of satirical sadness.

You snorted, rolling your eyes with no intention of hostility. “It doesn’t work that easy,” you replied almost immediately.

He laughed, unfazed by your words. “So,” he said, taking another bite of his croissant. “May I accompany you on one of your adventures, wife?”

You blinked.

“Don’t push your luck,” you said with a knowing look. “And don’t call me that.”

“I’ll take that as a maybe,” he smiled, glancing up at you. “You’re my wife, can I not call you that?”

You grimaced, the title still sounding foreign from his lips. “It’s just…weird, y’know?” After getting to see him past the facade he presents, it felt easier to talk to him about the marriage—like he would listen. The charming prince you had expected was still there, but the calm interior he refused to show to the public was beginning to bloom in front of you.

“We’ve spent our entire lives as children of rival kings, and then overnight I’m just suddenly your wife?” You offered a small, hesitant smile.

His expression softened, yet you didn’t feel pitied by his gaze. “I suppose it will take time getting used to.” He gave a thoughtful hum, absentmindedly tracing the rim of his teacup. “I won’t force it.”

You blinked at him.

“When it stops feeling strange,” he continued, “I’ll call you my wife without you making that face.”

“What face?”

“That one you’re making right now.”

You gasped softly, immediately relaxing. “Whatever.” He laughed, a genuine laugh that you hadn’t heard from him all morning. It was enough to draw a smile from you in return.

By the time the last of the dishes had been cleared, the warmth of the dining hall had begun to fade into something quieter.

Gojo rose from his chair, adjusting the sleeves of his coat. “Well,” he said, glancing toward the windows where sunlight poured over the gardens. “I have a proposal.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “Whatever you’re gonna say, I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Just give me a moment, I beg!” He exclaimed.

“Fine.”

“Come riding with me,” he proposed.

“Riding? Now?” Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Why not? Looks like it’s the perfect time,” he stated, referring to the white sunshine that almost blinded you. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

You tried to hide your smile and miserably failed. There was something almost childish about his excitement, like someone who had spent too long being expected to act like a future king and rarely got to simply enjoy himself. It was cute, you had to admit.

“Besides,” he added, offering you his arm, “you can’t explore the hidden corners of the palace without knowing the land surrounding it.”

You raised a brow, “That’s your excuse?”

“Of course.”

You shook your head but nevertheless, accepted his arm. “Fine.”

His eyes brightened, “Perfect.”

His touch outside the ball felt like something new on your skin. There wasn’t hundreds of wealthy eyes scrutinizing you, nor were there any expectations on how you should act or what you should say. His arm rested between your own, holding you close to him. A slow heat rose up your neck and to your cheek. You tilted your head away from him, hoping he wouldn’t notice the change yet something inside told you he would.

The man walking beside you was still the same prince who charmed every room he entered, but without the pressure of a ballroom surrounding him, he seemed more like a human being.

The royal stables were quieter than you expected. The smell of fresh hay and leather filled the air as horses shifted in their stalls, greeting the familiar voices of the stable hands. Gojo seemed completely at ease and in his element in the stables. Somehow, that made him actually interesting.

“You look surprised,” he noted as he approached his horse.

“I suppose I am.”

“Why?”

“I just didn’t expect you to be so…comfortable here, I guess it’s nice to see,” you admitted, running your free hand over the horse’s mane.

He smiled boyishly, “I just get to be alone out here, nobody to impress,” he explained, his eyes lingering where your hand petted the horse. “I don’t have to be the crown prince, even if it’s just for a little while.”

There was an honesty in his voice that caught you off guard. “You don’t enjoy all the attention?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

He let out a soft laugh. “Don’t get me wrong, the attention is nice,” he said, moving the horse out of its stall. “Expectations are the difficult part, I’m sure you’re familiar with them.”

You snorted. “Tell me about it.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the horses shifting in their stalls and the occasional tweet from a bird flying past.

Gojo soon broke the silence.

“You know,” he said, fastening his gloves, “I think everyone forgets that princes and princesses are people before their titles.”

“They expect us to become exactly who they want us to be,” you agreed. He met your gaze, a faint smile returning.

“Well, let’s get going. I want to be back before sunset,” he said, guiding the horse out of the stables. The reminder of sunset made your steps falter. Your thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Geto. In merely a few hours he would be expecting you, in that pavilion, to betray your kingdom. You still were debating on going. Despite the consequences that came with it, you had regretfully considered it. He made you feel something—like you were seen past your title.

“You coming?”

Gojo’s voice gently pulled you back to the present.

You blinked, realizing you stopped in the middle of the stable aisle. “Sorry,” you muttered, offering an apologetic smile. “I got distracted.”

He studied you for a brief moment, concern flickering across his features before his usual easy smile returned. “Well,” he said, swinging effortlessly onto the saddle, “I promise I’ll make this ride interesting enough to keep your attention.”

Despite yourself, you smiled. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I’m sure you can,” he said as he effortlessly mounted onto the horse. He settled onto the saddle before turning his attention toward you.

“Your hand,” he said, extending his gloved one.

“I can manage.”

“Humor me.”

You sighed before hesitatingly placing your hand in his. Before you could protest further, he pulled you upward with ease. For one brief, embarrassing moment, you lost your balance.

You yelped as his steady hand caught you, right at the waist. Your breath caught the moment his hand steadied against you, the warmth of him spreading against your skin.

“Easy, honey,” he chuckled. “I’ve got you.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you quickly straightened yourself on the saddle. “Let’s never speak of this again,” you uttered, choosing to ignore the term of endearment.

“My lips are sealed.”

“Wipe that smile off your face,” you scoffed.

“My apologies, ma’am,” he smirked, gathering the reins.

“You’re so impossible,” you huffed, instinctively grabbing onto his waist to steady yourself as the horse lurched into motion.

His laugh rumbled softly in front of you. “I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.”

The horse carried the two of you away from the palace, leaving the manicured gardens and stone walls behind. Soon enough, the road narrowed into a winding trail swallowed by the forest.

Towering oaks and trees arched overhead, sunlight only peeking through the gaps to create abstract pieces of gold. Ferns and wildflowers carpeted the forest floor, while ivy climbed the trunks of ancient trees. The only sounds were the rhythmic thud of hooves against the dirt path and the steady breath of Gojo.

It was secluded enough that the outside world seemed to disappear. No courtiers prying into your business or expectations to uphold, only the stretch of woodland and the surrounding river.

Gojo slowed the horse to an easy walk, breathing in the crisp scent of pine and damp earth. “This,” he said quietly, “is my favorite part of the kingdom.”

You found yourself smiling as you looked around, taking in a deep breath of fresh air. “I can see why.”

The filtered sunlight caught in his pale hair, painting an ethereal image of Satoru against the emerald leaves overhead. Bathed in ribbons of gold, he looked nothing like when you first saw him. You were beginning to see him like the boy he truly was instead of the renowned prince he painted himself as. Somehow, you found it quite beautiful.

The rest of the ride passed without urgency. You wandered wherever the forest path carried you, crossing narrow streams and weaving between towering pines as the afternoon melted into evening. Ever so often, Gojo would point out something that reminded him of something—usually of his childhood.

You found yourself listening more than speaking. Not because you had nothing to say, but because you liked hearing him talk.

Before long, the sun began its slow descent, staining the sky with shades of amber and rose. The forest glowed beneath the fading light, and the familiar silhouette of the palace came into view beyond the trees.

“I suppose we should start heading back,” Gojo murmured.

“Before they send out a search party?” You snorted.

He laughed along with you. “Your father probably already has.”

“Yikes,” you replied humorously. You smiled to yourself as the horse carried you to the palace stables.

Your day had begun with brunch alongside a stranger—one you had been convinced you would dislike. Now, as you arrived back at the stables, you found yourself smiling at his ridiculous remarks and horrible flirting instead of rolling your eyes. Perhaps, that was the most unexpected of it all.

Somewhere between the forest and the palace, Gojo ceased to seem like a thorn in your side. He was simply…Gojo.

And though you would never admit it aloud, you found yourself looking forward to the next conversation you would inevitably share.

©satorussolace all rights reserved. Do not copy, plagiarise, translate, or modify my works.

His girlfriend is forty five, Satoru is thirty two. And it just so happens you're twenty two, so you’re honestly closer to his age just a bit, but Satoru loves older women, he loves milfs, girls his age or younger were never much interest. He probably has mommy issues, no, he definitely does, there's nothing better than having his head stroked and having a meal made for him after fucking a Milf's brains out- 

Except, maybe, getting to ever touch you.

Gorgeous. You're so gorgeous, effortless and seemingly unaware.

You dress in all black, the opposite of what he expected with your mother who was literally beauty pageant winner for her state for years, her crowns are displayed everywhere. But not a single picture of you to be found, and you'd win them all too with your beauty. But you seem to shove it all away, baggy shirts and ripped jeans, you have not a speck of makeup on your face. Big buffalo plaid jackets as if to hide a body he now sees is fucking banging.

Your mom scowls over at you as she ties her robe. "Stop bothering him and go to your room."

"I just got water because hearing you all fuck for hours was making me sick. I'm not bothering him. He took my water."

"I don't care, when are you leaving again?" You blink a bit.

"I told you it's just a week while they're fixing that roof leak, and I won't bother you again. I'd have asked dad but I can't be that far from work."

"The sooner the better, and don't judge me for having a life, my sentence of you is over now." Satoru pauses, the woman he's been with for months was always sweet and perfect, until you got here.

Seeing your eyes water he clears his throat. "She wasn't bothering me, I did snatch her water up."

Your mom's face has plastered back on a fake smile, the beauty queen smile that’s so cold it makes you shiver, as she brushes up and down Satoru's bare arm, you hate how pretty he is. How much you think of him, and how her hand is all over him, it makes your stomach turn.

"You're right, sorry sweetie I'm just tired." She cooes, all fake she comes and hugs you. Satoru frowns, hoping he read that wrong, you stand still, unmoving, eyeing him over your mom's shoulder then. "I'll try to be quieter -" she leans against your ear. "So you're not so jealous of me hmm?"

You bite back tears, shoving her off. Satoru hadn't heard anything so he has no clue as she comes up to him that you're sobbing in your room. You almost forgot how much you hate that bitch. Yes, you hate your mother. Who pushed you beyond your means to compete when you were younger, damn near starving and working you to perfection, and when you turned eighteen and threw all your tiaras in the trash, lit your gowns and sashes on fire, she never fucking forgave you.

You haven't talked to her in four years, tired of living in her goddamn shadow, your father left her ten years ago and you see why. He hates her as much as you. They fought all the time over letting you have a choice of who to move with, but she ultimately won custody.

And now she takes the guy you were thinking of working up the courage to talk to.

Satoru Gojo. 

You saw him every day as you studied at that coffee shop right by your college, flirting with everyone, so light and free with his bright smile and confidence, while you wallowed in the corner. But you never did say hi, you're sure he never saw you, but to come home and find him shirtless and grinning was almost too much.

Your apartment unfortunately had a horrible leak upstairs and you had to leave, this was the last place you expected but it was right across from work. Never asking her for a thing you hoped maybe you could mend some bridges, but she's as cruel, beautiful and cold as ever. As a younger girl, you craved to have any of her attention, looked up to her, but now you know it’s not worth anything.

Maybe that's the type of woman a guy like Satoru Gojo went for, not you.

What did it matter!? He’s as off limits as it gets.

You hear them moaning again and shove in your earbuds, throwing a blanket over your head and praying for the week to end.

*****

Three days of staying under the same roof as Satoru Gojo

“Shit, sorry…” You’ve stepped right into the bathroom while Satoru’s walking out the next morning, skin glistening with the shower he just took, steam rising out of the door behind him. He smirks down at you as you careen into him damn near, hitting his hard body and almost falling before he catches you.

“Sorry for what?” He sets you right, lazy in his assessment of your face, blue eyes impossible to read, while your eyes drift across his nearly naked body, falling to the towel that’s not hiding shit, bringing a flush to your cheeks. “What, never seen a naked man? You freak out all the time.”

“Well if you ever wore any fucking clothes,” you shove him out of your way, scowling at his smirking face. “What?”

“You’re cute. Bet you’re a whole virgin.”

“Oh fuck yourself, none of your business, fucking Mrs. Robinson.” Satoru chuckles now while your hands brush against his slippery skin a little too long, making him pause, seeing color decorate your cheeks. He falters then, looking down at you, so clearly unused to any attention, clearing your throat and dropping your hand.

“How do you know what Mrs. Robinson is, you’re a baby.” He teases, arm resting in the doorway, that towel daring to dive lower with every moment, you avert your eyes now, digging out your makeup bag from the drawer to wash your face.

“You’re not much older than me, right?”

“Ten years older. You’re still a baby.”

“I’m closer to you than she is.” He blinks a bit, you wish he’d leave, but he’s just lingering like a little fucking pest.

“I guess. You’re nothing like her.” You scoff then, he didn’t mean it as an insult but he sees it is one, your jaw setting while you dry your face with a soft towel, and fuck if you’re not prettier bare faced than anyone he’s seen with a face full of product.

He shouldn’t think like that.

“I’m definitely nothing like her.”

“You don’t call her mom, huh?” He raises a brow, while you’re slathering serum on your skin, cool and tacky as it dries, counteracting the steam and the overheating of your skin from his proximity.

“No, I don’t. It’s none of your business, you all will be back to an empty love shack in days.”

Satoru chuckles then, shaking his head as you glare up at him. “Love shack, what’s with these old ass references?”

“I enjoy old things too, just like you enjoy old women.” He snorts now, rolling his eyes.

“She’s not old to me, one day you’ll be there too.”

“Sure will and won’t be fucking dudes that look like babies.” Satoru leans forward then, that perfect, pretty face right against yours, you freeze when he tilts your chin up, breath brushing across your lips.

“I’m no baby.” His whisper is too much, you swallow nervously, stepping back while he wreaks havoc on your nervous system, heart hammering when his snowy lashes lower, hand falling. “Why do you care what she does and with who?”

“I don’t. But I am not surprised, she was a hit at the high school graduation party.” He blinks in confusion at your words, you shake your head now. “You’re new to her. I almost feel bad for you.”

“Do you now…” You shove him aside, hating how good his skin feels again, hating whatever the fuck he does to your tummy being too close, shoving those thoughts far back.

“I do, she runs through toys like you.”

“We’re dating, not just fucking, you know.” Your lips quirk up, patting his shoulder, only for him to grip your wrist with his huge hand, taking it over, pausing your steps. You turn back to glare at his grip, then up into those arrogant eyes. “You know something I don’t?”

“Let’s just say, she’s a bitch.” You shake him off again. “But you are too.”

“Me!? You’re the mopey, emo little brat glaring daggers at me, sweetheart.” His voice murmurs, his breath against your skin as he leans down, you yank your wrist out of his grip.

“Don’t call me sweetheart!” You hiss as the bedroom door opens, as you two quickly separate, but she’s eyed your proximity, smiling coldly as she assesses you, the look that’s always made you feel so small, holds less than it did before, but it’s still there, the haunting memory of it all.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” She says it so nasty to you then, you just glare once more at Satoru and nod, walking past, her hand halting you, her mouth against your ear, making you shiver in disgust. “Stop looking at him, you’ll never have someone like that.”

“I don’t want him.” You whisper back, earning her laugh now, while she fake hugs you, and you just want to fucking fall into a hole.

“Have a great day, honey!” She smiles and steps forward to Satoru, you can’t stop looking back over your shoulder at them, sighing when his eyes catch yours over her shoulder, unreadable - but you swear you see something flicker.

You can’t even think that way.

You’re stupid.

*****

Five days of staying under the same roof as Satoru Gojo

The man does not own a tee-shirt, you’re completely convinced - he’s always half naked, as if this is how he exists. Well, he clearly has dress shirts, he wears them when he heads off to run his business, you’re not even sure what that job entails, apparently some trust fund baby considering he’s never there. He left for the past couple of nights to go home, thank god.

When he does he brings her with him and she doesn’t come back until late, driven home in some fancy limo, but you get a reprieve.

You suppose he looks good in his Armani suits as he leaves every morning though, always getting some breakfast made from ‘mommy’- yuck. You have to watch them kissing in the kitchen as you fight waves of nausea, but the past couple days you haven’t heard that ridiculous fucking, and he barely kisses her, eyeing you intently when he does press his lips on her cheek.

“Satoru, do you have to go to work today?” She pouts as she blinks those long lashes at him, and he sighs, smiling and touching her cheek, as you vividly wish it was you, which you hate yourself for. You avoid his eyes, sipping on coffee before you head to work yourself.

“I do honey, don’t worry I’ll come stay tonight.” She pouts again, he just smiles a little stiffly, walking out as you head out the door, hands touching the knob at the same time, making you both pause. You clear your throat, pulling your hand back like it’s on fire, as he lets you out first, feeling your mom’s gaze burning a hole in the back of your head.

“Want a ride to work?” He asks quietly, heading over to the black car with a driver holding the back door.

“You don’t drive, huh?”

“Why should I when I can pay someone too.” His pretentious smirk again has you itching to smack him, but the thought of not having to catch a bus is tempting. “You know you wanna.”

“Whatever. Thanks I guess.” He bows as if he’s some gentleman and not an idiot, you slide in next to him, sighing as his thighs spread way too far, brushing against yours. “Manspread much?”

“You hate me don’t you?” You blink in confusion, looking away and biting that lower lip, the lip that fucks him up mentally to look at. Being this close to you alone is making his body react, his pulse racing, even as he keeps a neutral look, he aches to drag your lips against his.

He’s been trying to avoid you since that morning in the bathroom when you touched his chest, burning his skin like a brand. The pull is too much, to where he can hardly remember what he was thinking with your mom. She’s gorgeous, she’s his type, she’s got everything Satoru needs after spending the day at his boring ass family company, but her daughter won’t stop tempting him.

How he saw your breasts spill out of your tank top this morning, your scent that he can’t describe filling a room, it’s all horrible - and shit timing, as now your mom has been talking about getting more serious. Before he saw you, he was hopelessly enamored with her beauty, her clear confidence, but he can’t stop looking at the shy, insecure girl far too eagerly.

He’d show you how gorgeous you were if he had a chance-

The fuck is wrong with him?

You’re her daughter.

“I don’t hate you, Gojo.” You say softly, turning to look up at him now, so much pain behind your eyes it nearly takes his breath away.

“You sure act like it.”

“I know. I have to.” You clear your throat nervously, tucking strands of hair behind your ear, his fingers itching to sweep it back, breath catching when you look up at him, eyes so intense he can’t look away.

“Why do you have to hate me?” He asks quietly again, trying to remember - you’re young, you’re his girl’s daughter, while you remember, he’s your mom’s boyfriend, and you can never act on anything.

“You know the answer,” you whisper, leaning forward a bit, when he leans down, the car cruising gently through the busy streets, entrapping you both in the black tinted windows. “Don’t you?”

“Do I? Seems like you hate her, and I’m hated by default,” he brushes that hair back finally, the contact bringing heat to your cheek, he feels it against his fingers, exhaling when you don’t pull back. “Do you have a good reason to hate her?”

“I do.”

“What-” The car comes to a stop now, jostling you just a bit, as the driver apologizes for hitting the brakes too hard, throwing you right against Satoru’s hard body, you inhale that cologne, expensive and musky, almost making you salivate before he pulls back a bit. “Shit, you okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” You pull back before it feels good, sliding away again and looking out the dark window. “It’s too long of a story.”

“We have a drive to talk.” He wants to talk to you, fuck he wants to do a lot more than talk, last night he’d seen you when he tried to fuck her, and he had to stop, much to her irritation.

He kept fighting the need to jerk it to the memory of your pretty tits, to picture you instead of her, to shove it all down and try to remember himself.

He’d be glad when you weren’t around, tempting him.

“It’s too much to even begin, but… let’s just say living in her shadow, and with her expectations were brutal.” Satoru tilts his head, big hands on his own thighs, sitting still so as not to further touch you, or do more. “I gave up pageants when I turned eighteen and she disowned me.’

“You did them?” He asks softly, you sigh and turn to look back at him.

“Yeah, since I was three. I… don’t wanna get into it all.” He sighs, was it just that your mother was so upset you gave up on her dream? It felt like more. “I don’t hate you though. Okay? Aside from constantly making her scream out like some goat-” he bursts into laughter then, making your eyes narrow. “And never wearing a shirt.”

“You really hate that.” He muses, you want to tell him more about her, but he’s not your therapist, not your friend, and as much as you despise your mother, it’s just not your place to spill it all. So you leave it at that, sighing and pulling out your phone, checking the time.

“Besides all of that you’re okay I guess.”

He smirks just a bit. “I’ll take it.”

“I will never call you step dad.”

“Oh god, fuck I hope you won’t.” You both laugh it off a bit, the tension, the unspoken words in the air, as you slip into a soft silence, the two of you busying yourselves now, both trying to ignore it. Whispering in your minds - it’ll be over soon.

*****

One week of staying under the same roof as Satoru Gojo

The amount of stress your mother puts you through is unreal, when Satoru is there at least she puts on enough of a show not to do too much in front of him, as to appear perfect. You went out with a few friends for the night - a much needed getaway, and free drinks - sounds like the perfect remedy for dealing with her bitchiness.

You wish you just had some extra money for a hotel, but you just paid all your bills and pay day is a couple days away. As soon as that came in you were going to just grab a hotel for the last couple of days - they are stupid expensive with the holiday right now, but anything was worth leaving her as quickly as you can.

Stumbling in, your mother eyes your clothes with disdain. “You look like a slut.”

You snort in laughter at that, opening the fridge and grabbing another drink out, the seltzers you bought to knock out at night when you had to hear her and Satoru fucking. You crack it open and sit on a chair, crossing your legs that are well revealed in the dress that does barely cover anything. You look hot as fuck though, you already know it.

“Says the woman who had like an entire frat run a train on her in her forties?” You raise a brow, and your mom smacks you right in the face, you smile nastily at her. “Ya mad your ass can’t wear this shit anymore?”

“You’re a stupid little bitch, everything I did for you - and you turn out like this?”

“What, work for a living? A degree? How’d I turn out so bad.” You swipe your cheek then, and her gaze drifts across you with cold eyes - the same color as yours, but they just have no fucking soul to them.

“The biggest disappointment. You could have had a modeling career, but now you’ve let yourself go.”

“Let myself go?”

“Remember how you looked senior year?” You shrink back at her nasty words, biting at your lower lip then, you try to act tough but it’s difficult at times to not let old insecurities hit.

“I was starving because of you.”

“Exaggeration, my god. I did that so you could look your best.”

“My best, huh? I think I look hot, so you can suck a dick. Where is Satoru, by the way? Can he shove one in your mouth?” You smile as your mom gasps, and that’s when the door opens, and you hear Satoru’s footsteps on the floor, still rubbing your stinging cheek as your mother instantly puts on her front.

“You’re a little bitch.” Your mom whispers, yanking your drink out of your hand then, slamming it on the table. “What a waste of your looks, down the drain.”

Usually your mom would stop when Satoru got here - perhaps your saving grace was that. But as he walks into the kitchen, his snowy lashes blink in confusion at seeing her. You catch his eye over her shoulder, smiling then. “Why don’t you fuck her so she’ll be in a good mood again?”

Your mom gasps as you take your drink back, standing and getting away from her overwhelming presence, taking a breath and acting ‘normal’ while Satoru’s gaze drifts across your outfit slowly. You feel every inch of your skin caressed by blue eyes, like he’s touching you.

You can’t think that way, even if she’s a bitch.

“What’s wrong?” He asks then, setting down his jacket, your mother finally seems to notice he’s there, putting on a pretty pout and batting her lashes.

“Just her being mean to me, Satoru.” She walks up to his arms, and you laugh then, so loud you’re crying, swiping tears as you truly feel you’re losing it, seeing her run her long red nails across Satoru’s chest as he looks at you.

There’s too much in the look.

“Maybe if you get dick in your mouth you’ll shut up.” Your words earn your mom’s mouth wide open, while you stretch, knowing half your breasts are fucking out, your thighs fully revealed in the short, tight skirt, hoping to piss your bitch mom off more.

It’s petty but.

It works.

You bend over to snatch two more drinks up, and Satoru has trouble tearing his vision from the sight, picturing bending you over and cursing himself for it. Your mom is whining to him, bitching about you, but your evil little smirk towards him and her turns him on more.

“I’ll be gone tomorrow night, then you won’t have to see me again mommy dearest.”

“I know you didn’t just call me that.” Her affronted tone just makes you giggle, drunk honestly, even more, walking back to your old room - her pageant trophy room - and sighing then, leaning against the door.

You can act as if you’re not hurt by her words all you want, but they hit and they hit deep, hearing the quiet murmurs of her and the man you’re fast desiring far, far too much. You slide down to the floor - you’ve talked endlessly about how your mom never loved you to your therapist - but it still feels like shit, not that you think she could love anyone but herself.

After downing your seltzers, you’re thoroughly drunk - something you haven’t been since freshman year of college, when you go out into the quiet kitchen, in search of a bottle of water. You tense when you see a shirtless Satoru, his strong back illuminated by the soft light over the stove as ice clinks into a glass. He turns his head, catching sight of you before you can dip back to the room.

“Hey.” He usually has something snarky to say, but that’s all he manages, turning toward you and leaning on the counter, you try to avoid your gaze on his body, on the light trail of hair under his flat belly button - but you’re too drunk to avoid it.

“You get her off enough? Maybe she’ll be okay tomorrow.” You murmur, and his jaw tenses then, while you walk up, stumbling just a bit when you get to the fridge, one of his hands dart out to your arm, wrapping around it gently. You pause, eyes darting up to his.

“You all right?” You scowl, yanking your arm out of his hold.

“What do you care for?” Your whisper is angry, he sees so much anger, and though he doesn’t exactly know what was said, hurt was written all over your face.

“Can I not care?” He asks softly. You scoff, looking away.

“No, you can’t.” He sighs now, sipping his drink as you bend down, grabbing another drink instead.

“You shouldn’t have more, you’re torn the fuck up.”

“Oh, thanks dad.”

Satoru scowls now. “Don’t call me that.”

“No?” You’re annihilated, he’s absolutely right, removing the barrier you have put up for him, fingers drifting up his chest, bare and hot to the touch. He tenses, as your fingers drift down over his abdomen, and you step closer. “Should I call you daddy?”

Satoru scowls, thin brows deep over his blue eyes, and his cock is throbbing under his sweats, he wills it to go down, feeling like a horrible fucking man. He couldn’t get hard for her tonight, not when every time he was touching her he pictured her daughter instead, pictured how tight and slick he bets your cunt is, pictures your perfect tits in his fucking hands.

“You’re drunk and stupid, sweetheart.” He grips your wrist, as you quietly giggle, and you look far too hot, drunk mess and all. “You’re too drunk to know what you’re doing.”

“I know what I’m doing, Gojo. I just hold back when I’m sober.” He exhales, and your eyes dart down, raising a brow when you see a far too impressive bulge. “Need to go fuck mommy some more?”

“You’re a brat.” He whispers, pressing you against the cold steel of the fridge now, a thigh pressing between yours, and your heart races. His proximity has you dripping wet in moments, the strong thigh between yours, his breath ghosting over your lips as he bends down. “Touch me again like that and see what happens.”

“Gonna spank me, step dad?” He pins your wrists right over your head, muscled thigh pressing up against your overheated cunt then. Your eyes roll back, you’re too gone to act like you don’t want him, arching your hips up and earning his soft little moan, as he rests his head down on yours.

“Shut the fuck up, you’re… just shut up.” He whispers, a desperate, needy little voice now. “If you weren’t… If I wasn’t…”

“What, big man? Can’t finish a sentence?” You roll your hips again, he feels you soaking him, he can’t stand how badly he wants to slip his cock inside you then, lift your right on that fridge. “Don’t wanna make mommy mad, do we?”

“I can’t stand you.” His lips are a centimeter from yours then, and your breath catches. “Need me, don’t you? Cunt is soaking wet.”

“It’s n-not.” He smirks, letting your wrists go, you shove at his chest, when he pulls back just a bit, gripping your chin.

“It’s not?” You shake your head and he pulls back his leg, looking down at it. Your entire body heats up as you see it, the wet spot darkening his light sweats. “What’s this then, hmm sweets?”

“N-nothing.” You look down in horror, when he swipes it with his thumb, leaning forward again, silvery white locks falling over his forehead then.

“Nothing?” You nod, and he swipes that thumb over your lips, moaning as they’re coated in a gloss, while your cunt throbs around nothing, aching for his touch.

“Mmm, fuck, why do you have to look like that?” He whispers, lips leaning close again, his hands on your hips, your nails slip up his side, contemplating leaving marks for your bitch ass mom to see - hating yourself for it.

“Go back to bed, mommy will miss you. Go fuck her.” He glares even deeper, just looking far too attractive when his lips brush against yours barely, before there’s a noise and he immediately backs away, as do you, heart pounding. What the fuck were you even doing!? “I’m drunk.”

“Yeah, you are.” He whispers, fists clenching as he huffs, turning and pulling his cock up into the waistband of his sweats, annoyed as shit by your laughter. “You’re such a brat.”

“Am I, or are you just wanting to fuck a mom and a daughter? Didn’t you get off enough al-”

“I can’t fuck her, okay?” You blink a bit at his declaration, you scoff, rolling your eyes. You won’t believe him. “That’s your fucking fault. I’ll be glad when you go.”

“Good, so the fuck will I.” You shove at him now, and he hates the hurt on your face. “Don’t want you, creepy old stepdad.”

“Old!?” You smile, mean and nasty, only making him want to fuck that expression right off your face. “I’m not your fucking stepdad.”

“Sure you’re not.” You pat his bare shoulder, walking past him now, barely able to breathe when you walk back into your room, leaving him cursing, eyes shutting tightly when he leans against the fridge, heart racing.

Satoru Gojo has never hated someone until you, for fucking his brain up and whatever morals he does have. He’s by far not a cheater and never has been, but all he can picture when your mom sucks him is you instead, shutting his eyes and pulling on hair that looks just like yours. He hates whatever the fuck you’ve done to him, and how bad he feels for telling you he wants you gone.

He does want you gone so things go back to normal, he can be the milf fucker he’s always been, he can live his life and fuck away all his problems with the career he’s been shoved into. But laying next to her that night he’s staring at the ceiling, wondering what you taste like.

******

One day left staying under the same roof as Satoru Gojo

You and Satoru have avoided each other completely, you work and come home, packing up the few things you have left so you can stay with a friend who’s offered you to come with her for the next few days. It was tiny and cramped there, but anything was better than staying here, and not just because your mom is an evil bitch who loves to trash you every moment.

It was him, the reason you wanted to leave so fucking bad.

“Should you eat that, honey?” Your mom says, so fake sweet as you nibble on a candy bar, you didn’t eat shit at work so you instantly busted out a snickers.

“Should you fuck men half your age, mommy?” Your mother glares, and Satoru overhears, though he stays in the hall.

“He’s not - also your ass is just looking really big in those shorts, you know.”

“That’s good, I like it.”

“Your hair looks oily.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Your mom scoffs again, snatching the bar and throwing it out, and you glare up at her. “I just care about you. No makeup, you dress like shit, and you’re munching on a candy bar? How much further do you want to let yourself go?”

“I work for a fucking living, I don’t make money off fucking men and having them take care of me. So back the fuck off. I’ll be gone in the morning.”

“Thank god, Satoru can’t stand you.” You blink a bit then, wishing that didn’t hurt as much as it did. You could handle her trashing you in every other way, but the man that you can’t rip your fucking mind from actually hating you stung.

“Huh?”

“He can’t stand you, and you’re not going to come between what I want. I see you, looking at him.” She tilts your chin up then. “You think you’d ever get a man like him? That’s funny. Maybe before, when you were still competing. Now?” She laughs, and you feel tears running unwillingly from your eyes. “Not a chance, so stop dreaming about him.”

“You don’t know shit.” You smack her hand off you. “I’ll leave now.”

“Go right ahead-”

“Hey, what’s for dinner?” Satoru walks out then, and your mom pauses. “Who’s cooking?”

“She’s leaving.” Satoru checks his Rolex on his wrist then, frowning.

“It’s nine already, buses aren’t running. Why not wait till the morning?”

“Because she-” your mom puts back on her airs now, smiling so saccharine and fake. “No, you’re right, Satoru. She should stay and eat some dinner.”

You scoff, since the bitch just threw your only food for the day in the trash - but you do get paid in the morning, and it would be more convenient to just stay. “I’m not eating with you. But I’ll leave in the morning. Good night mommy dearest.”

“I swear to-”

She’s cut off with you shutting yourself in again, laying on the bed and shutting your eyes, wishing her words didn’t cut so deep like knives, stomach growling. Even later when you smell food you don’t come out, until a soft knock is on your door, and you finally drag yourself out of your bed you’re just rotting away and crying in.

“What do you want?” You say softly, looking up at the tall man - who really should wear a fucking shirt - in the doorway.

“You should eat something.” He murmurs softly, you sigh, shaking your head.

“I’m not hungry.” Your tummy inconveniently growls, and he frowns now rather than an amused smirk you’d expect.

“You should eat.” He repeats, shocking you when he grips your hand in his, bringing you out to find he’s set a plate aside for you.

“I don’t need you to feed me.” You nibble while standing, cutting up a piece of chicken however, chewing thoughtfully as he watches you, far too intensely. “What, are you gonna just watch me?”

His heart aches for you then, having overheard her. It all fits with the conversation he had with you in the back of the car, the pressure she had you under all made sense. He’d only seen glimpses of it, her cruelty toward you, but they’re glaringly apparent. When she’d tried to fuck him earlier, and brought you up, he couldn’t do anything with her, thanking god she went to sleep early.

He needed to see you.

You were so clearly not okay from her.

“Stop acting like you care.” You murmur then, nibbling another bite, not even sitting at the seat before you turn away.

“Finish eating.” His commanding tone is far too fucking sexy, in fact all of him is - and you could almost forget about last night, in your drunken haze, but the problem is you remeber it vividly, tasting your arousal on your lips.

“You don’t tell me what to do. I have a dad.” He laughs without humor then, shaking his head and leaning low, pressing one hand on the wall, lifting your chin with the other.

“Stop acting like I’m even close to old enough to be your dad.” You bite your lower lip that trembles, you inhale that hundred dollar a spray cologne that’s haunted your fucking senses all week.

“You fuck my mom, so.” Your little glare hits him so good, your mean little words that just make him more obsessed with you, picturing you constantly. He’d jerked off in his office just remembering your heat against his thigh today - simultaneously feeling horrible and the inevitable pull of you, intoxicating like the liquor he’d drunk to just lay next to her last night.

He can’t get hard around her - not when you’re in the next room.

“Does that make you mad, that I fuck her?” He asks then, your scowl deepens, teeth clenched as you shove at his chest.

“Why would it?”

“Seems like it bothers you,” his fingers brush your hair back, goosebumps rise on your skin, tummy clenching with the hot desire. “Seems like you’d want me inside you instead.”

“Ah, you wish, conceited ass of a man. I don’t want you.” You’re lying through your teeth, and it’s like he knows, the blue eyes seeing right through your fucking bullshit. “You don’t want me either, so stop fucking with me.”

“I don’t?” He’s close, too close, you shove him away then, shaking your head, her words ringing in your fucking ears.

He’d never want you

Out of your league

You’re nothing

Maybe they did still get you, words you’d long since stopped giving her the ability to speak. Years of striving for her affection, of wanting to be perfect and win so that you could get just a bit of her praise. The moment you broke free was the best time you can remember, throwing those tiaras away - but you fear you’re just barely a step away from falling back into the sadness that she caused.

Worse is this tall, beautiful fucking man acting interested.

“You would never want me,” his mouth drops open at that. “So stop fucking acting like it.”

“You think I don’t!?” You scoff, walking away now, heading to the bathroom to perhaps put some water on your face, but this fucker follows you in, shutting the door, coming up behind you now, and you see his reflection in the soft lighting around the mirror, see the way he’s looking at you.

“Get out. Stupid. I’m not your milf okay?” You gasp then, as he tilts your chin so that you catch his brilliant blue eyes, the bathroom is too small suddenly, when his chest presses against your back.

"Look at me," Satoru whispers, you shake your head, tears falling. "I said look at me." He tilts your chin to look to the side as he leans over you.

"What?" You whisper through your teeth, trying to be quiet in the dark room, as Satoru’s hand slips down your bare arm, the other arm wrapping your waist, dragging you against his hard body. You whine out softly at it, being pressed against him, before you can stop yourself. When he leans lower, cool breath against your lips.

"You're beautiful, okay? So fucking beautiful..." You shake your head at that, earning his sigh, gripping your chin so tightly you feel his strength, only making the sweet ache worse. "You are. All I can think of is fucking my girlfriend’s daughter on every surface, you know what that fucking does to me?" His hushed, desperate voice makes your tummy clench with desire.

You have tried to fight it, but the resolve weakens every second you stare into his cerulean gaze, words you don’t want to accept. "Satoru... I… mnh!"

“Shh, sweetheart,” he groans now, shaking his head, kissing up your neck as his hand splays your stomach, drifting to your heat, breaths faster and heavier, mixing with yours. "Is it just me? Being fucking horrible?"

You shake your head, crying out softly when he finds your hot cunt over your shorts, soaking the thin fabric of them immediately. He moans so sexy against your ear, as the longing keeps swirling around the two of you. "You're not horrible, I am..."

"No, she's a fucking bitch. I didn't know she... was that mean. I like psychos, but that?” Your eyes shut, ass brushing against his thighs, feeling his hardness press against the small of your back.

“She’s just how she’s always been. Mnh… you shouldn’t.”

“I know I shouldn’t, okay? Fuck, you just take it. Let her treat you that way, why don’t you stand up to her, hmm?” His fingertip finds your clit, pressing up as your head falls back, and his cock twitches, aching to come inside you when you soak his fingers through your shorts, gasping and writhing against him.

"I'll be gone tomorrow. It's f-fine... Satoru, what are you… mnh!” You cry out, he brings a hand to your mouth while you watch your reflection in the mirror, he's taking over every sense you have.

“God you're soaked, so fucking hot, so tight.” He leans down, slipping a thick digit in your tight little entrance, making you scream out weakly against his hand. His blue eyes dilate, in the dark, quiet hushed sighs against his hand mixing with the sound of embarrassing wetness echo across the walls. “Lemme make you feel good, hmm?”

You just nod weakly, so tired of pretending like you don’t want him, entranced by the image in the mirror of him overtaking you, fingers angling up as your juices pour down his hand, you whine out, trembling as he keeps hitting just that spot, the one that makes your eyes roll back. Your ass arches back for more, knowing she’s in the next room and could hear or see fucks you up too much.

Your mommy issues clearly are still prevalent.

After hearing all her loud high pitched moans from this man, knowing all of his attention is on you is addictive, his lips brushing the shell of your ear while his fingers curl in your slick walls, gripping him and quivering. “Can you keep quiet so I can see your pretty face when you cum?”

You nod weakly, his words are destroying you, and any resolve you currently have, any part of your brain that knows this is wrong is gone, you want to cum for him, as he is bending low to angle his fingers deeper. You gasp and bite your lip as he does, as the squelches of your hungry cunt echo in the small space.

His breaths come heavy as he feels your walls, as you feel every line of his long - fuck they’re so long - fingers curling against your spot over and over, thumb pressing your twitchy little clit. “Satoru!”

“Shh, sweetheart,” he’s lost in you, cock leaking precum as he studies your face in the dark reflection, feeling you grip him so fucking good, picturing stretching your perfect little cunt out. “Like this?”

You nod, swallowing as you cling to his bare arms, feeling his muscles bunch as he moves his fingers, you are blinded when he rolls his thumb just right, as his other hand grips a breast under your tank top, brushing against your nipple. It’s all too much, you bite back the moans that threaten to rip from your throat, instead whining out softly, gasping and hiccuping as pleasure waves through you.

You’re soaking his fingers, dripping down them when he leans low, capturing your lips, drinking in your little cries as his fingertips brush your spongy spot, over and over, while you shatter in his hold. Your saliva drips across your tongues as his fingers slow, thumb pressing up your twitchy clit again, while you’re lost in his embrace, his taste sweet on your tongue.

You should feel bad you’re dripping down Satoru Gojo’s fingers, had they been inside her earlier? Would he touch her with them? You wish it all didn’t just make you wetter, more sensitive for him, when he eases them out, sucking them into his mouth now, moaning when your flavor hits his tongue, the filthy thoughts just echo louder as your pussy pulses from the aftershocks.

“Fuck you’re so sweet,” he moans then, turning you and lifting you until you’re spread on the counter, your thighs shake as he presses against you, hard and thick, kissing you with your juices dripping across his plump lips. “God I wanna bury my face between your thighs.”

“Satoru, this is insane.” You whisper, as he’s hungrily kissing down your neck, moaning a little too loud. “Shh!”

“Fuck, maybe she should hear,” his eyes are batshit insane then, brilliant blue almost glowing, long fingers spreading your thighs apart. “All I can think of is you.”

“Shut up,” you’re shaking your head, hands slipping through his silky locks as he kisses down your chest. “Fuck me.”

Satoru blinks at that, when you’re reaching down to touch him, he exhales, hands trembling as they hold you, kissing your lips again and losing himself, cock brushing your soaked cunt. He hears the door click across the hall then, pausing and cursing. “Shit…”

“Shit!?” He covers your mouth, glaring with his snowy lashes lowered over his blue eyes.

“Shut up.” He’s kissing you again, hot and desperate as your mom is calling out his name, you can’t stop the soft whine from your lips. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Shut me up.” His hand lifts a thigh, groaning quietly as he hears his fucking name again, cock leaking so much precum, throbbing so much it hurts.

“Satoru honey, where are you?” He sighs now, and you shake your head.

“Go, I’ll stay for a few.” You whisper softly, he is aching to stay, but the situation at present is horrible, and he doesn’t want you getting hurt because he can’t keep his hands off his girlfriend’s daughter.

“Don’t leave tomorrow until we talk.” He says then, against your ear.

“Maybe.”

“Ugh.” You smile a bit at his scowl. “I’ll be right out, just in the bathroom!”

“Okay honey, I miss you.” You feel sick, watching him walk out, you let out a held breath, thighs shaking, trying to wrap your mind around the fact that he made you feel better than anyone ever has, that you've never cum like that.

Worse, how he had kissed you?

This was some sick, cruel fucking joke, falling for your bitch ass mother's boyfriend. You can't trust him. You know you need to slip out in the morning, to try to forget him and how good it felt to be in his arms.

******

The last morning staying with your mom

You want to wait for Satoru like he asked, but laying there and counting down the moments until you know the buses run, you couldn’t stay.

You can’t do this, even to her, have some sort of affair?

You can’t be the other woman - especially to your own mother, even if she’s fucking awful, the guilt is eating at you. It would be different if it was some petty revenge to her for all these years, if it was just sexual attraction, but you absolutely know it’s way more with Satoru, kissing didn’t feel like that, nothing felt that good, being consumed by Satoru and losing yourself in him.

You’re trying to slip out that next morning, when Satoru Gojo grips you by your wrist, out of nowhere, you look back and his azure gaze is furious. “I asked you to wait for me.” His tone is so hurt, you can hardly stand it.

“Gojo, we have to forget it.” Your broken words ruin him, he’s breathless as he looks at you, two bags slung over your shoulders. “I shouldn’t have.”

“No, why not?” He caresses your cheek, bending over you then, his sweet breath bringing back the memories that kept you up all night, of kissing him back, of his fingers now on your wrist that were inside you.

“You’re hers.” You hear her then, panicking and shoving at Satoru, but he doesn’t move an inch.

“Get the fuck away from him!” Your mom’s words make Satoru chuckle, and the sight of it confuses the fuck out of you, as he looks back at her, raising a brow.

“I’m pinning her to the door and you’re yelling at her right now?” She sputters, your heart fucking races, the heat creeping up your cheeks, burning as she stomps over to you both, furious so clearly.

When you were younger it would have scared you, but Satoru is here, and in the short week, you oddly trust him, feel the comfort, something to be said about it that you haven’t admitted to yourself yet.

“It’s her trying to take what’s mine, jealous of me always.” She grips your hand, your bag falls to the floor as she scowls down at you. “Never show your face here again, leave my life the fuck alone, stupid little bitch.”

“I didn’t-” She raises her hand as if to smack you when Satoru grabs her wrist, she looks at him in shock.

“You won’t raise a hand to her again, she might not stand up for herself when you do, but I will.” He drops her wrist now, raising a thin brow and bending down, picking up your bag for you.

“Satoru baby, you don’t understand all she’s put me through,” she’s trying to be sweet again, crocodile tears dripping down her cheeks, long lashes blinking, her lip is even trembling. She’s always been great at that. “I don’t want to hurt her, but she is horrible to me.”

“I’ve heard and seen far, far too much this week. You are an evil bitch to her, and you won’t get to be anymore.” He shoves her off him dismissively as she tries to cling to him now, then she scowls at both of you.

“What, because she’s younger!? Is that who you are? Some sick game to fuck us both?”

“No, she’s actually just better than you. In every single way, and you hate it, don’t you? That’s just pathetic.” You look down, unbelieving he’s standing up for you like this, your mom lets out an affronted scoff while Satoru picks up his phone.

“You don’t want her, you can’t.” She’s losing her composure, her act, it’s all falling apart as she starts to panic.

What could be worse than you ever outshining her? You’re supposed to live in her perfect shadow.

“Why are you so jealous of your own kid? You got some crazy issues, you know that? Not even hot crazy, either, just a batshit narcissist.” He clicks his tongue, sighing and smiling down at you, with lidded eyes. “Wanna stay at my penthouse until your apartment is ready, sweetheart?”

“What!?” Your mom is blowing a whole fucking gasket - you should feel bad for stealing her man, but you really can’t find it in you.

“Yes, if you really don’t mind?” Satoru grins, those bright white teeth, and picks up his dark shades off the side table, your mom is tugging on his dress shirt, and he brushes her off, looking over his sunglasses at her.

“Satoru I’m sorry, I just… I was acting out too much. It’s her, the problem! Look how happy we were before?”

“I’m sure there are plenty of young men for you out there, maybe younger than me so they are too dumb to see how fucked up you are.” She’s glaring as he takes your hand in his, and you can’t stop the happy little giggle from your mouth as you both leave, and you hear things getting thrown at the door.

“Satoru, that was insane!?” You whisper, he brushes your hair back then, sighing.

“I wanted it to go a little smoother, that whole exchange. But no, of course you were bratty and didn’t wait.” He tilts your chin up and you kiss him, smiling against his sweet, plush lips.

“You’re not step-dad anymore, maybe the appeal is lost-”

“I’m gonna beat your ass.” He’s scowling as you giggle through your tears, when his car pulls up, he hands your bags off to the driver, climbing in and holding out his hand, tugging you in the back. “You do need a good ass beating.”

“I think I had enough mental beatings,” you grumble a bit, he frowns at that as the car revs up, and he tugs you against his chest. “You noticed?”

“Yeah, hard not to. Last night was when I saw how fucking much she hates you, the way she talks it’s just not how a normal person does. I’m sorry you…”

“I’m good. I promise.” You look up at him then, kissing him softly, while your hand slips down his chest, hearing his hitch of breath.

“You can eat whatever you want at my place, okay? Also your ass is very nice.” You blink back tears, mixing with your tremulous smile from his sweetness, and you’re flustered- you’re literally a wreck.

“You heard it all?” He nods, swallowing, his brows together.

“It’s why I came to you. I’m so disgusted that I even…”

“How could you know? She’s beautiful, she knows how to play people.”

“You’re more beautiful than she could be,” he murmurs, kissing you again, messy and hungry in the back of the huge black luxury car, having you straddle him, your mom’s ex boyfriend, feeling his phone vibrating against your thigh now. “I swear if it’s her I’ll have you cum right on the speaker.”

“Gojo!” He’s sighing, his big hands drifting over your waist, when your phone starts going off too, but you’re too lost in his kisses, in his scent, in how good he fucking feels.

“Feel so good on me, fuck I wanna bury my cock inside you,” he is desperate and needy then, feeling your heat against his cock, when you drop to your knees, making his lips part. “Sweetheart…”

“Want your cock in my mouth,” he’s whining out at that, helping you unbutton and unzip his slacks, until his cock springs free, making you gasp.

You knew it would be big, but you didn’t know it’d be that big, a solid nine inches and thick, veins running and wrapping under his shaft from the base to his blushing pink tip. You moan softly at it, soaking wet under your panties from the sight, that clean yet musky scent. Satoru brushes your hair back softly with long fingers, eyeing you down there, making you feel so sexy with just a gaze.

“Want me to suck you down my throat?” He nods quickly, and you do just that, after spitting on his cock and slathering your saliva as the phone keeps vibrating, but his hands are enwrapped in your hair while you look at him under those lashes.

“Fuck, look at you, can you take it all?” He’s taunting, a mix of devotion and talking shit, so intoxicating you can’t take it, tummy full of so much pressure you whine out at the sensations, gliding his tip inside your mouth now, hot and hungry while you taste him. You swirl your tongue on his tip, fingers brushing across the soft white hair right over his cock.

His eyes never leave yours as you move, as he fucks up into your throat, hissing at just how fucking good your mouth feels, how pretty your eyes are as you look up at him. You’re whining out, vibrating around him, while his hands tug your hair into a ponytail, fucking into your mouth harder, harder, you’re slobbering down his cock so messy and filthy how you take him.

“So beautiful, fucking look at you,” you whine at the praise, from his soft lips, which he’s biting and releasing, making the sexiest moans from the back of his throat that drive you to get wetter and wetter. You reach down, touching yourself under your skirt when he yanks your wrist. “No.”

“No!?” You glare, and Satoru smirks, shaking his head.

“I’ll bet the one touching you, licking you- ah!” You’re sucking him again, even as he grips your little wrist tightly, sucking one of your little fingers, so lewd and sexy you can’t stand it, grinding on nothing for friction, as the car comes to a stop, Satoru huffs, yanking you up. “Open.”

You do just that, and freaky ass ‘stepdad’ Satoru Gojo spits in your mouth, you gasp, swallowing it and feeling the need grow so much it’s painful, kissing desperately, hand still stroking his length up and down. “In me, please.”

“Shit, yeah,” he adjusts himself, leaving the belt unbuckled as the two of you ride up the elevator to his stupidly fancy and clean penthouse, once the door is shut he presses you against it, hands slipping up your sides, gripping you everywhere. “Wanna taste you again, fuck…”

“Taste me then, mnh!” He’s on his knees right before you, the way he looks up at you is so intense it takes your breath away, as he shoves your skirt up, lapping a hot stripe up your slick panties, already soaked. “Oh my god, more, more!”

“Demanding little thing,” he teases, stroking fingers up your soppy panties, groaning as he then pulls them down, letting them fall down to your ankles, still clad in those ridiculous combat boots. They’re so hot he just keeps them on, throwing a thigh right over his shoulder, breath ghosting on your bare cunt. “Fuck, look at you, you’re so pretty.”

“Y-you don’t have to say- ah!” Your hands entangle in his silky, silvery white locks, soft as your fingers grip and pull until it hurts, but he wants more.

“Fuck my face, that’s it, taste s’good, mmm,” his whispers against you vibrate against your clit, and you’re screaming out, head falling back against Satoru’s door, as his mouth devours your cunt, so hungry and desperate for you.

His impossibly long tongue makes you furious that your bitch ass mother ever got him in this way, toxic and petty, it just makes you fuck his face more, hips rolling while that tongue plunges into you. He’s licking and stroking between your folds, right up in your hole, straight nose bumping your clit. Your thighs shake, his fingers pressing into them, your gummy walls are convulsing around his tongue.

The sound of him sucking up all your wetness - well he’s trying to, but you’re so fucking wet it’s pouring, his cock is leaking precum - already sensitive from that stupidly talented mouth, and now this? He can hardly remember your mom’s name any more, in fact he can’t remember anything right now, but how he should have been doing this, just drinking your sweetness up down his throat.

Devouring your pretty pussy, pulling your plump, puffy lips apart to slide that tongue in and out of your quivery little cunt as you scream out hoarsely. “Oh my god, don’t stop, don’t stop, please!”

You’re sobbing out his name, panting as he licks and nibbles your twitchy little clit with sharp teeth, making you gasp out at the shock of the pain and pleasure, your nipples pressing against your top, tummy clenching as you feel your orgasm so close. He’s slipped two fingers up inside your hole, looking up at you as his tongue flicks your sensitive clit again.

“You’re so messy, aren’t you baby?” He taunts softly, all you can do is weakly nod, while his fingers now know your spot way too fucking well, pressing up against your g spot while he stretches you hot. “So sweet now, is this what you needed?”

“Shh, jerk.” He chuckles against your cunt, before sucking your little clit into his hot mouth and fucking moaning, making you feel like you’re going to collapse. It’s so good, so fucking good, and you’re so close. “I-I’m gonna, Satoru, oh god-!”

He doesn’t let you go over the edge though, pulling away with a pop of pink lips,covered in your arousal like a gloss. You yelp, looking down at him with a desperate expression, your cheeks flushed, chest heaving. He can’t stop thinking how fucking pretty you are like this, desperate for him, whining and wiggling.

“Why’d you stop!?” He stands now, slipping up your sweater, groaning when he realizes you have no bra on, seeing those tits he’s jerked it to bounce gently.

“Want you to cum around my cock, like a good girl. Can you?” He’s way too fucking hot, it’s actually unfair. You nod weakly, he sighs, cupping your breasts and watching your eyes roll back, his thumbs brush your nipples, already hard and aching for more.

Satoru unlaces your boots, leaving your knee socks and skirt on, you just look too sexy in them, unbuckling himself hastily as you tug his shirt off him. “Please, hurry, fuck…”

“Demanding, thought you hated me not wearing a shirt?” You glare at him, just making him chuckle, before he’s down to nothing, fully naked and gorgeous, as the light streams in through the blinds of those floor to ceiling windows, casting shadows across his perfect form.

“Fuck…” You’re kissing across his chest, when he shocks you, lifting you up like it’s nothing, pressing you right on that door again, the cool wood against your burning hot skin, tip drooling and leaking against your cunt. “Mnh! Please!”

“Need my cock so bad inside you?” You just nod weakly, done pretending or teasing, you’re still throbbing from the way he edged you, and when his leaky tip bumps your clit it almost pushes you over the edge. You’re clinging to his neck, kissing him as you roll your hips, soaking wet and begging with your body.

“In me, g-god, just - ah!” Satoru shoves his cock so deep in one stroke you’re left breathless, blinking rapidly at the ridiculous stretch, so full you can’t think, you’ve never been stuffed like this. Your eyes lock, his are so bright they’re insane, his lips and chin coated in your arousal, holding you by your ass right under your skirt as your legs tremble around narrow hips.

“Fucking feel you, my god,” he’s whispering in wonder for a moment, blinking snowy lashes to try to orient himself, to not cum just from one stroke like some dumb teenager from pussy.

But your pussy!?

“Prettier, tighter,” he’s whispering, and the words itch that toxic, fucked part of your brain, the mix of craving Satoru and the petty part of you that hates her. He can tell too, smirking. “Wetter than her. Feel better, fuck than anyone.”

“Shut up, so full of - ah!” He’s fucking you now, you got that moment to adjust, bruising your lower back when he fucks you against that door with no mercy, thick cock bullying your quivering little walls with filthy smacks of skin and your squishing cunt. “Oh my g-god!”

“I’m telling the t-truth you… bratty little fucking… god she’s so tight, mnh…” Satoru’s lost then, hips bucking up and rolling just so, and he watches your pretty face hungrily. “Cum f’me, all over me, make a mess.”

“Ah!” You’re gushing, just making the sounds in the enormous penthouse you’ve barely noticed louder, mixed with his moans as he fills you up so good, when he pushes deep and rolls those hips, watching you intensely as you cum, his eyes so brilliant blue and fucking starved for you. “Ohmygod fuckfuckfuck!”

“That’s it, fucking you dumb, huh,” he’s groaning, feeling your slick coat him, your mouth in a slutty O when he looks back up, feeling your aftershocks pulse around his cock. “God, baby, you came so hard f’me, bet you never have.”

“B-bet you never… felt pussy this good,” your bratty little whisper makes him smirk, slamming into you and pulling you off the door, you’re clinging to him in shock without the support, but he’s lifting you up and down his thick, lengthy cock like you’re a little fuck toy. “Ngh!”

“You mean better than your mom’s?” You scowl, gripping him tighter with your thighs as he just walks around with your fucking cunt around him, smirking as he lifts and drags you back on his cock again. You’re clinging to his back, nails pressing in and leaving marks.

“Psycho, mmm!”

“Says you, need to know if your pussy is tighter? I already told you, but no, gotta know every part that’s better? You’re so fucked up baby.” You glare, biting the shit out of his lip and earning his moan, as you draw just a little bit of blood, a bright red droplet that makes him grin.

“Maybe I am fucked up.” Your answer makes him chuckle, picking you up again, fucking you suspended in the air as you cling to him, whining. “Feel s’good, so thick mmm!”

“Am I the biggest you’ve had? The best?” He’s whispering, husky and needy now, you could bluff and taunt him, but you just nod eagerly, and he exhales, pulling out with a wet squelch, making you whine. “Hang on to me.”

You do just that, heart racing while Satoru carries you now, and your dark spots fade for a moment, long enough to get glimpses of his gorgeous, expensive ass fucking penthouse, making your mom’s place look like shit when you thought hers was fancy. Everything is spotless, surprising you only briefly when he makes it to his bedroom, tossing you right down on it.

You bounce gently on a black silky comforter, taking several breaths, looking around then glaring. “She fuck you on here?”

He grins at you, nodding and unzipping your skirt, groaning as he sees your hips for the first time. “Fuck you’re sexy,” he caresses you softly for a moment, fingertips drifting down the jut of your waist, the curve of those hips, before grabbing them, looking at your cunt. “All beat up already, huh?”

“Shut it, back in.” He grins, fingering your knee socks and sighing.

“They’re too hot, they stay on.” His open admiration of you makes you feel so fucking good, the way his eyes worship you, leaning low and kissing you again. “So fucking sexy, y’know that?”

“Mnh, s-so are you. But you know already, conceited- ah!” Satoru’s cut you off with a bite to your lower lip, sexy glare on his face now.

“Couldn’t even walk around her house without getting wet for me, could you?” Your glare just turns him on more, while he bends down, sucking your nipple into his hot mouth as you cry out, his teeth sinking in.

“Ah!” He moans, going right to the other. “Y-you wish.”

“Bet you played with your cunt, maybe right next to your mom’s room huh?” You bite his shoulder so hard it makes him moan at the pain. “Shit.”

“Shut it. You wish I did, bet you jerked it thinking of me? Your girl’s daughter, freaky ass-” He’s bit you again on your other nipple, the pain shooting up and making your sore cunt wetter.

“I did,” you blink, so disoriented, eyes now looking up to his in shock. “Yeah, I did, thinking of that slutty dress you wore that night.”

“Shit… really?” He sighs, and before you can say anything else, Satoru turns you around now, bending your ass up in the air, moaning at the sight, the dimples in your back, the way your ass looks, he moans and slaps each cheek, as you whine out, head falling back.

“God, look at this ass, fuck…”

“Prettier from the back than mommy is?” He scowls as you look back and giggle, smacking the fuck out of your ass now. “Ah!”

“You’re so damaged,” he smacks your cunt, you’re just drooling now, eyes rolling back, so ready to be filled by him. “Already told you, prettier pussy, yummier, tighter - gotta hear how much better your ass is too?”

“Mmm! Was teasing,” you whisper, when he slips his cock back inside you, this time so deep he bottoms out in one stroke, you scream out at it, hair now in his hold as he fucks into you. “Gojo!”

“You’re so damaged baby girl, god it’s hotter than it should be,” he’s losing it inside you then, your wet, slick little cunt gripping him even tighter, balls smacking your clit with every brutal stroke, as his other hand grips your ass, marking it over and over. “Feel so much better.”

“Yeah, daddy? Ah!” Satoru’s smacked the fuck out of you again, it stings so good as he slams his cock deep, tip drooling along your cervix. “Oh my god!”

“Stop running that mouth,” he leans over, gripping your throat with one hand, long fingers wrapping it entirely, bent over you with a arm braced on the other side, as his cock is stretching you, feeling so fucking perfect even as it hurts, how big his cock is. “You’re so fucking slutty, huh?”

You nod weakly, as he starts squeezing your throat now, making it all fuzzy and heady, you’re gasping for a breath as he presses on your pulse point, cock pounding you from the back, you’re gasping for breaths as filthy smacks fill his huge room. “Oh, Gojo!”

“Satoru, call me Satoru…” he’s whispering desperately, needing it from you, and you feel his cock thickening inside your slutty, drooling hole.

“Satoru, ah!” You’re lost as he chokes you while fucking so deep, rolling his hips, making you shatter for him, walls quivering around his cock, trying to milk him for everything he has. “Satoru!”

“Wanna fill your pretty little cunt with all my cum,” he whispers, squeezing harder as he hits just that spot, and you feel the pressure in your tummy explode, screaming out as the orgasm hits. “Oh god baby, yes, cum again f’me hmm?”

You can’t not do just what he asks, blinded as he saps your oxygen with his fingers tightening over your throat, you’re fuzzy and dizzy as you scream, the sound hoarse and weak. He’s moaning and kissing you, drool spilling out the corner of your mouth, releasing your throat a bit and just gripping under your chin now. You’re shaking, cunt so wet it’s dripping onto the dark blankets.

“S-Satoru…” you whisper again, making him whine when your head falls back, he’s biting across your neck, groaning. “Feel s’good in me…”

“You feel s’good wrapped around me, f-fuck…” the phone goes off again, in the pants discarded on the floor, and he smirks as he bends down, grabbing it.

“What are you…” Satoru presses that green answer circle, before sliding back in your cunt, psycho grin and dilated blue eyes vivid as you hear her voice. You look at him, covering your mouth as you hear her voice, but he leans down, whispering in your ear.

“Make noise.” You shake your head - you can’t be that fucked up!?

Can you?

“Satoru please, just come back. I’m sorry.” She’s sobbing, her sweet little meal ticket is gone after all, he’s slamming his cock deep in you as you scream into your palm, making him laugh a bit.

“Sorry, I’m not… coming… back that is, hah-” he’s hitting those backshots harder, the filthy sound of your cunt echoing, your eyes roll back, drool spilling on your palm now as you hear her voice in the background.

“She’s manipulating you!? She wants what I have. Satoru- what’s that!?” He chuckles, bottoming out and stuffing you so full your hand falls and you scream out.

“That’s your daughter, god she’s so much tighter than you.” You gasp and glare back at him, only making him hit it harder, until there’s no denying the filthy sounds.

“Oh you are… you both… you’re a whore I swear-”

“Ah!” Satoru’s rubbing your clit, murmuring in your ear.

“Cum f’me again, hmm?”

“You’re insane!?” He grins, and you shake your head, but soon you’re shattering again, earning his moan.

“So, I need to go, gotta get your daughter pregnant.” You gasp again, mid orgasm, as your mother sputters and he hangs up on her, chuckling.

“Y-you… she’s… Satoru!”

“She won’t call again now I bet,” he’s leaning low until you’re in prone position, turning your face and kissing your soft lips. “I wanna fill you all up, baby, hmm?”

“Do you, daddy?” He glares, but his cock pulses, and you giggle, breathless, earning him shoving hard, pulling at your hair. “You like that.”

“Shut it,” he’s moaning as you tighten around him, aftershocks pulsing, as he pictures doing just that, knocking you up. “Beg for it, slutty little brat.”

“Please, daddy,” he whimpers at that, and you bite your lip. “You’re damaged too, huh?”

“Not as damaged as you,” he’s huffing, kissing you as you laugh. “You can laugh? Need to fix that.”

“Gonna teach me a lesson daddy- ah!” Satoru Gojo is so deep you feel him fucking everywhere, making you tremble, as he’s throbbing inside you. “You like it!”

“Shh. Yes.” Your breathy giggle is cut off when he chokes you again, so intimate like this, teeth sinking in your neck now. “Beg for it.”

“Daddy please fill me up - mnh!” You’re both lost then, Satoru won’t admit it but hearing you call him that makes him sensitive, whimpering as he busts deep inside your perfect little hole, your gummy walls grip his cock and pulse around it, while his white sticky load coats them. “Oh my g-god!”

“Fuck, feel her… milking my cock huh?” You just nod weakly, when he cups you under your chin, kissing you messy and desperate, you’re cumming from the warmth, from all that cum pouring down his cock, mixed with your gossamer strings of arousal swirling down his cock, his balls, to the bed.

“Mnh, Satoru…” He’s kissing you deeper, teeth sinking into your lips as you both come down, easing his strokes and softening just a bit, still so thick inside you, making you feel so full.

“You’re so fucked up, baby.” You gasp, glaring now as he eases out. “It’s okay, all your issues? Hot as fuck.”

“You’ve got your own issues then, hmm?” He smirks, pressing kisses along your shoulder blades now.

“Too many to count. Not the only one with shitty parents, sweetheart.” Satoru turns you over now, and you brush a hand across his cheek, sighing.

“Then tell me them all, daddy.” He scowls again, and you can’t stop the grin on your face, Satoru lets you get away with it a bit, because it’s just so pretty to see on your face.

“Can’t tell if you have mommy or daddy issues or both?”

“Mommy issues. You can give me daddy issues though.” His glare is so cute you can’t stop the soft smile on your lips, as you lean up, body reeling from him.

“Should beat you, I swear. I’ll grab water.” You nod, and he leaves for a moment, you lean up, his cum leaking out of you, you search for any part that feels just a little guilty for fucking and stealing your mom’s man.

But it’s not there.

You see a picture of them on the side table then, sitting up and frowning a bit as he comes back, boxers slipped on, a blunt and lighter along with water. “Wanna smoke, sweetheart?”

“You’re corrupting me, step dad.”

“I swear to god stop.” You grin again, as he sits next to you, frowning as you study the photo. “Throw it out.”

“No…” you take his lighter and light the flame, burning the image of your mother and letting it die out in the ashtray, before handing the lighter back to him. “I burned all my sashes and dresses too.”

“Part of me wants to see you in a pageant dress, but the other part knows how much you hated it.” He says softly, watching the picture burn and lighting up a blunt now. “I’d fuck you in a sash and tiara though, nothing else.”

“Would you now?” You tease, he nods, inhaling the smoke, and handing the blunt to you, his perfect body covered in dripping sweat from you. “I may have one I didn’t get rid of.”

“Shit, don’t make it hard again.” You’re straddling him, inhaling the blunt and blowing the smoke into his mouth, he’s gripping your waist, already hard under his boxers, as you two fall into each other, each finding the other’s issues unreasonably hot, both damaged as fuck and honestly morally grey - but you really don’t mind fucking your mom’s ex boyfriend all night until you’re dripping his cum.

Your mom never does call you again - what a shame :’) 

Sooo the pageant mom idea was fromm @huntyhuntycunty , also took inspo from them having met before from @yenayaps ! alsoo ty @blkkizzat for making me motivated to finally finish this hehe I love you girls <3

"Ahh Toji," you moaned, voice breaking sweetly into the quiet air.

He growled low against your flesh, the sound vibrating straight through your core. He held you firmly now, one hand steady on your hip. His tongue moved with purpose, licking in and around your hole in slow, teasing strokes. The tip of his tongue wormed its way into your tight hole, pushing past the tight resistance and making your thighs tremble.

You gasped, fingers clutching the sheets beneath you. Toji's arm snaked around your waist then, hugging you close to his face as he buried himself deeper. His face pressed fully between your ass cheeks, mouth latched onto your cunt like he couldn’t get enough. He sucked hard, slurping noisily, the wet sounds filling the room and making your cheeks burn with heat.

His eyes closed in pure bliss. He inhaled deeply, breathing you in, then exhaled warm against your sensitive skin. The rhythm of it drove you wild, his hunger so raw and open. When he needed air he pulled back just enough, fingernails digging into the soft flesh of your hips and thighs, leaving little red marks that only turned you on more.

Spit and slick strung between his lips and your pussy, glistening and messy. Toji stared at it for a second, breathing ragged, before he dove right back in. He licked with fresh intensity, gathering more spit on his tongue and spreading everything. He painted it all from your dripping cunt up to your asshole, leaving no inch untouched, claiming every bit of your soft flesh with his mouth.

You moaned again, pushing back against his face as much as his grip allowed. Toji only held you tighter, devouring you like a man starved. His tongue flicked and swirled, dipping inside once more before sliding up to circle your tight ring. The mix of sensations made your head spin. Pleasure building fast and heavy in your stomach as every lap of his tongue pushes you closer to the edge.

He pulled back for another breath, strings of spit connecting him to your soaked folds. "Fuck, you taste so good," he muttered, voice rough with need. Then he was on you again, mouth latching tight, sucking your clit between his lips while two thick fingers teased your entrance.

Your body rocked back towards his face with each movement. The way he hugged your waist kept you locked in place, unable to escape the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you, alternating between long, flat licks and pointed thrusts of his tongue, spreading your wetness and sticky slick everywhere, nails digging in harder when his hunger took over completely, pulling you back onto his face, rough and eagerly.

Time stretched out in that haze of heat and slick sounds. Toji ate you like he had all night, like he would never get enough of your taste, your scent, the way you moaned his name. He worked your pussy and ass with relentless focus, spit dripping down your thighs, mixing with your own arousal.

You felt yourself clenching around nothing, desperate for more, but his mouth kept you right there on the brink. He hummed against your cunt, the vibration shooting sparks up your spine. Another deep inhale, another messy slurp, as he spread you even wider with his hands.

The pleasure coiled tighter. Your moans grew louder, breath coming in short gasps against the bed. Toji didn't stop. He licked and sucked and explored every fold, every sensitive spot, until your legs shook uncontrollably in his grasp.

He pulled away just long enough to growl against your skin. "That's it. Let me hear you, Doll." Then his tongue was back, borrowing deep, spreading more spit and slick in messy strokes from your cunt all the way to your asshole.

You were lost in it. Completely his in that moment, arched and open and dripping for Toji's hungry mouth. He showed no signs of slowing down, face buried deep, arms locked around you, devouring every bit of pleasure he could pull from your body. The night was young, and he had been waiting far too long to stop now.

Your body trembled under the steady rhythm he set. Toji began fucking his tongue into you deeper, pulling you back and forth on his tongue with those powerful hands. Each tug dragged your dripping cunt along the thick muscle, forcing it in and out in a filthy rhythm that left you gasping into the sheets. The wet sounds grew louder, messier, as he devoured you without mercy.

You could barely think straight. Pleasure crashed through every nerve. His grip stayed iron tight around your waist, keeping you arched and open for him. He hummed against your flesh, eyes still closed in pure satisfaction, breathing you in like he needed it to survive.

But it wasn't enough for him. Not anymore. Toji finally had enough. He pulled back with a low growl, strings of spit and your slick stretching between his mouth and your soaked pussy. He stood up behind you, towering and impatient. In one swift motion he shoved his sweatpants down his hips. His cock sprang free, leaking pre cum, veined and heavy, throbbing in the cool air of the room.

You glanced back over your shoulder, breath catching at the sight. Toji wrapped one large hand around the thick length, stroking himself slowly as he eyed your glistening hole. He pressed the fat tip to your pussy first, rubbing it teasingly over your swollen clit. The contact sent sparks shooting through you, making your hips twitch.

He dragged the head down to your entrance next, teasing the sensitive rim. You whimpered softly, pushing back against him, desperate for more. Toji chuckled darkly, low and rough. Before he pushed in he spat, letting a thick string of saliva drop from his lips onto his cock and your pussy. The warm spit mixed with your wetness, making everything even slicker.

Then he pushed in just enough. The fat head stretched your tight walls, splitting you open slowly. You moaned loud at the burn, the delicious pressure of him filling you. Toji groaned deep in his chest, one hand still gripping your hip while the other guided his cock.

He held still for a moment, savoring the way your pussy clenched around his tip. His thumb rubbed circles on your skin, almost soothing, but the hunger in his eyes told you he was far from done. With a sharp thrust of his hips he sank deeper, inch by thick inch, stretching you wider than his tongue ever could.

"Fuck, so tight for me," he muttered, voice gravelly with lust. He kept one hand on your waist, the other sliding up your back to press you harder into the bed. Your chest stayed flush against the sheets, ass high, taking every bit of him as he worked himself inside you.

Toji started moving then, slow at first, pulling back until just the tip remained before sliding back in. Each thrust grew a little harder, a little deeper, his heavy balls pressing against your clit with every drive forward. The spit and slick made it obscene, wet smacks echoing as skin met skin.

You wiggled again in his grasp, overwhelmed by how full you felt. He only held you firmer, fingernails digging into your flesh once more. His pace picked up steadily, pounding into you with that raw strength. Sweat beaded on his skin, dripping down onto your back as he fucked you exactly the way he wanted.

He leaned over you, chest brushing your arched back, lips grazing your ear. "Been thinking about this pussy all day." His cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside you, making your toes curl. You moaned his name again, the sound muffled by the bed but still clear enough to spur him on.

Deep, powerful strokes that shook your whole body. His veined cock stretched you perfectly, leaking more pre cum inside your heat. The angle kept your ass up high, letting him hit so deep your lower tummy started filling out, bulging softly with his cock pressing deeper into you.

He pulled back and spat again, another thick string landing right where you were joined, adding to the mess. The extra lubrication let him slide even easier and faster, driving into you with relentless hunger. Your pussy fluttered around him, squeezing tight as pleasure built higher and higher.

Toji growled, one hand leaving your hip to reach around and rub your clit in firm circles. "Come on, give it to me." His thrusts never faltered, pounding steadily while his fingers worked you closer to the edge. The combined sensation had you shaking, moans spilling freely now.

He fucked you like he owned you, like he had been starving for this exact feeling. Pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust, burying himself to the hilt over and over. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping, wet squelching, and your shared heavy breathing.

You felt yourself tipping closer, body tensing under him. Toji sensed it too, doubling down on his pace, slamming into you harder. His cock throbbed inside your walls, veins dragging deliciously with each movement. He kept rubbing your clit, never letting up, determined to push you over.

Toji stayed buried deep, hands soothing over your skin where he had gripped so hard. Pressing a lazy kiss to your spine, cock still twitching inside your pussy. To him, right now in this moment you were everything being under him, to feel your body against his, to feel you struggle and then take all of his cock, felt like a dream.

Toji straightened up, gripping both your hips now, and really began to rail into you. Deep, powerful strokes shaking your whole body. His veined cock stretched you perfectly, leaking more pre cum inside your heat. The angle kept your ass up high, letting him hit so deep you saw stars with every thrust.

He fucked the thick length of his cock even deeper, reaching that soft opening to your cervix. Each powerful drive pressed against it, sending sharp waves of pleasure pain through your core. Your pussy grew creamier around him, the messy slick coating every inch of his shaft. A thick white ring formed at the base of his cock, evidence of how wet and used you were becoming under his relentless pace.

Toji groaned low, eyes fixed on the sight of himself disappearing inside you. He pulled back slow only to slam forward harder, burying himself to the hilt again and again. The wet squelching sounds filled the room, mixing with your broken moans and his heavy breaths. Sweat dripped from his chest onto your arched back, marking you as his.

He kept that steady rhythm, hips snapping forward with controlled strength. His balls slapped against your clit on every thrust, adding sparks of sensation that made your toes curl tight. Your walls fluttered around his thick length, squeezing him as the pressure built impossibly higher inside you.

Then he pressed deeper, grinding against your cervix with a deliberate roll of his hips. That was all it took. You started to cum hard, milking him with rhythmic pulses that gripped his cock like a vice. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body shaking uncontrollably in his firm hold. Moans spilled from your lips without control, face buried in the sheets as you rode it out.

Toji growled at the feeling, his own release rushing forward fast. He started to cum right after you, filling you up with hot, thick spurts of cum, deep inside. He kept thrusting through it, pumping every drop into your clenching pussy while you milked him dry. The warmth flooded you completely, mixing with your own cream and making an even bigger mess.

He stayed buried for a moment, savouring the way your bodies pulsed together. Finally, he pulled out slowly. Cum spilled from your stretched hole the second he left you empty, but still full, dripping down your thighs in messy white trails. He watched it with dark satisfaction, one hand still gripping your hip to keep you in place.

Toji ran his thumb through the leaking mix, spreading it over your sensitive skin. "Look at that," he murmured, voice rough and pleased. He pushed two fingers back inside you briefly, stirring the cum deeper before pulling them out again. More spilled out, coating your pussy and making it glisten.

You trembled beneath him, body spent and glowing from the intensity. Toji leaned down, pressing soft kisses along your spine while his hands soothed over your sides. His cock rested heavy against your ass, still half hard and slick with both of you. He wasn't done admiring the sight of his work, the way your hole fluttered and pushed out more of his cum.

He flipped you gently onto your back then, spreading your legs wide to see everything. His eyes drank in the creamy mess between your thighs, the way it leaked steadily onto the sheets. A lazy smirk tugged at his lips as he stroked himself slowly, already thinking about the next round.

You reached up for him, pulling him down into a heated kiss. Toji sank against you, his weight comforting after his rough treatment. A hand slipping between your legs again, fingers playing in the slick cum as he kissed you deeper. The night enclosing you both, filled with his hunger and your shared pleasure. He had claimed you thoroughly, and he planned to keep doing it until neither of you could move.

It had been twenty-four hours since your freedom was cast off to a stranger. Twenty-four hours since your lips were forced to kiss the man you unwillingly married, the man you were supposed to love from now on.

You always knew it would happen, you just didn’t expect it to feel so worthless and fake. You were supposed to be able to choose.

You now sat motionless before your vanity as another pin was pressed into your hair. Gold glimmered in the mirror, catching on the decorative jewels that were woven through the strands of your hair. Behind you, servants rushed around your chamber with excitement that you couldn’t seem to feel.

“His highness requested the rubies,” one maid whispered.

“No, it was the pearls. The Queen specifically said-”

“I heard there will be guests from six kingdoms-”

You stared at your reflection, searching for someone you recognized. The crown resting atop your head felt heavier than it ever felt before.

Wife.

The title settled uneasily in your chest. You could hardly even remember the vows you repeated to your husband.

Even with the cheers echoing through your kingdom, the smiles from your parents, and the bells ringing from every tower in the capital, you could only think about how cold his hands felt on yours.

A knock sounded at the door, prompting for all the maids to go silent.

The door opened before anyone could answer and in stepped your mother, the queen of your kingdom.

“My dear, you look beauteous,” she exclaimed, running her hands across your bare shoulders.

“Thank you, mother,” you smiled faintly, tilting your gaze to the floor.

A slow pause came from your mother. “What’s wrong, my dear?” She whispered, squeezing your shoulders.

“Why is a ceremonial ball necessary?” You complained, eyeing the masquerade mask resting on your vanity.

She sighed, “Don’t you want to celebrate your marriage?”

“Why should I?” You replied, furrowing your eyebrows. “He didn’t even lay with me last night, mother.”

“So I’ve heard,” she says, shaking her head in disapproval. “I wish you could be betrothed to anyone else, but we need this,” she frowned, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Please, mother,” you pleaded, clutching on the silk of her gown. “Please, don’t make me stay with him.”

Tears brimmed in the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill as you buried your face into her dress. For a moment, her arms came around you, holding you just as she had when you were a child afraid of thunderstorms.

“My darling,” she said softly.

The endearment only made you cry harder.

“Do you think I wished this for you?”

“Then stop it,” you sobbed desperately, “Tell father to make amends another way.”

She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “If it was that easy, I would have done so long ago.” Gently, she cupped your face in her hands and lifted your chin.

“Listen to me, you are a princess. There are burdens placed upon us that we do not choose.”

“I don’t want burdens,” you cried out. “I want a life that’s my own.”

Pain flickered across her features so quickly you almost missed it. “As did I,” she muttered, quiet enough that you could hardly make it out. “Fix your tears, you need to be strong, my dear.”

You let go of her gown, wiping away at your eyes. “I want you to have fun at the ball tonight,” she paused. “Please, for me.”

“Okay,” You hiccuped, giving a small nod.

“Be brave, my love.”

The words were warm against your chest, providing the only sense of comfort you’ve had for days.

Without another word, she pressed a kiss against your forehead before turning toward the door. You watched as she paused at the threshold, her hand lingering on the doorframe as if she wished to say something more.

Whatever it was, she swallowed it, clicking the door shut behind her. Your maids quickly rushed beside you, patting away at your flushed face.

“Your highness, I must redo your makeup,” one of your maids told, brushing products on your face.

“I’m sure he’ll grow to love you so much, your highness,” another maid added. “You’re too beautiful to be cast off by a man.”

You smiled, chuckling slightly. “I appreciate that.”

A soft laugh escaped one of the maids as she moved behind you, tightening the bodice on your torso. “Still, it’s a fortunate match. You and Prince Gojo are some of the finest of the lands.”

The words that should’ve comforted you, wore on you like the heaviest of silk.

“Fortunate,” you repeated under your breath, almost tasting the word.

Another maid grabbed the velvet mask off your vanity—maroon and ivory, matching with the colors of your gown. Filigree curled like vines across its surface. “Your mask, your highness,” she said, gently placing the mask on your face.

“It’s gorgeous,” you smiled. The mask covered a small part of your face, resting just atop your eyes.

“Compliments your features perfectly, your highness.”

The room bustled once again—adjusted hairpins, jewelry clasped. Somewhere beyond the hall of your bedroom, music began to swell.

“Looks like the ball is beginning, princess!” One of your maids exclaimed.

The final pin slid into place, and your reflection in the mirror looked almost unreal. Your hair was perfectly pulled back into a delicate hairstyle, maroon hairpins adorning the braids. Velvet gloves that matched with the color of your dress ran up your arms, stopping right above your elbow.

The distant sound of music drifted through the thick palace walls, laughter already spilling down corridors. A sigh escaped your lips.

“Time to go.”

Gathering the skirts of your gown, you rose from your seat. The maids hurried to each side of you, smoothing down any wrinkles before stepping back to admire their work.

“You look stunning, your highness,” one of them said with a proud smile.

You offered a grateful nod, twirling in your mirror. “I must show Nanami!” You exclaimed.

“Your chaperone is waiting right outside your door, my lady,” a maid informed.

“Kento! Come inside, you fool!” You called, shouting over the noise inside your room.

The large door of your chamber creaked open gently. Stepping in was your loyal companion, Kento Nanami, appointed by your father to serve as your personal chaperone and sworn protector.

“Your Highness,” he bowed, polished shoes clicking softly against the marble floor. He adjusted the cuffs of his impeccable coat, taking in your appearance.

“Look at this dress, how wonderful,” you breathed, tilting to the side and slightly lifting your skirts.

“It is very beautiful,” he admitted with a soft smile. Some of the tension in your chest eased. If there was one person in your life who never failed to steady you, it was him.

“Where is your mask? You must wear it,” you stepped to him, feeling his velvety coat.

“In my pocket,” he informed, pulling out the navy blue mask from his back pocket.

“Put it on,” you dragged out the last of your sentence, snickering at the annoyed expression that sat on his face.

A sigh left his mouth, “You will be the death of me.” Once the mask was worn on his pale face, the two of you began walking down to the ballroom.

The corridor stretched long beneath the sunset seeping through the large windows, shadows flickering against gilded walls as you and Nanami walked in synchronization.

Your steps echoed softly against the polished marble floor, each one feeling heavier than the last. “Ken,” you called softly, tilting your gaze his way.

“Yes, my princess?”

“I’m nervous,” you sighed. Somewhere ahead, the music sounded louder—strings and laughter blending into a single hum.

“You? Nervous of a ball?” He snickered in disbelief.

“It’s not the ball, I-I’m just scared to see Prince Gojo,” you babbled as you held a white knuckled grip around your torso.

A long sigh followed Nanami. “He will not cause any harm, I’m sure of it,” he declared softly.

“I don’t think he will cause me any harm, I’m just afraid of my future with him,” you confessed, playing with the jewelry adorning your neck.

“I’m sorry that you feel this way, your highness,” he said, sparing you a look of sympathy. You gave him a tight lipped smile before letting out a shaky breath.

A pair of guards bowed as you passed beneath an archway leading to the grand staircase.

“Your highness,” one murmured.

You gave a small nod in response, fingers tightening around the edge of your bodice. Kento continued walking at your side, silent and composed. Candlelight lined the long corridor in golden pools, but even that warmth couldn’t settle the cold twisting in your chest. Every step you took pulled you closer to what awaited behind those ballroom doors sitting at the end of the hallway.

You hesitated for a moment as you reached the threshold. Kento seemingly noticed immediately. “I’ll be by your side the entire time,” he muttered, resting his arm on your lower back.

You smiled at his gesture before your attention drifted to the ballroom once more. The guards straightened as you approached. One gave a quiet announcement, and at once, the heavy doors began to open.

A swell of music poured out, now louder and more overwhelming than before. Golden light spilled into the hallway and conversation surged like a living tide. The vastness of the palace ballroom never failed to amaze you.

Towering chandeliers of pale crystals hung from the painted ceilings, scattering the brightest of lights across the room. The floor gleamed like polished glass, reflecting the swirl of silks, jewels, and masked faces moving in elegance. Music filled every corner of the space, strings falling and rising like a heartbeat.

Heads turned as you passed, masked nobles dipped into bows with lingering eyes following your presence. You could feel the attention flowing off of you, the weight of it pressing against your skin.

Nanami guided you forward with calm precision, never rushing or hesitating with his steps.

Somewhere deeper in the hall, the music seemed to blur as the crowd parted. As if someone important waited ahead.

“I think the prince is ahead,” Kento whispered in your ear, slightly tightening his hold on your waist.

You nodded your head quickly, holding your hands carefully at your side. You straightened your posture slightly, trying to keep the flawless image that never faltered.

His appearance was as clear as day, white hair bustling over the luxurious ivory mask with small pops of light blue that matched his eyes. His robes were adorned with pale gold jewelry, the chandelier light ricocheting off of the luxury that was Prince Gojo.

The weight of his gaze locked onto you with quiet precision, the warmth that once followed you seemed to fade instantly. Then he moved—the shift was hardly even there before he began slowly stepping towards you. The crowd parted for him, like it was molded around his silhouette.

“Your highness,” he spoke slow and controlled, keeping eye contact with you as he bowed. “Lord Nanami,” he nodded his head.

“Prince Gojo,” you bowed in return, resting your hands near your lap.

“Please, call me Satoru,” he smirked, extending his hand towards you. “Will you give me the honor of sharing this dance with you?

Your stomach twisted as his hand extended out to you. Around you, the ballroom seemed to hold its breath, dozens of masked faces watching you. Refusing would never be an option. You swallowed hard, placing your gloved hand in his “I don’t believe you’ve earned that familiarity yet, Satoru.”

He lowly chucked, “And how must I earn that familiarity?” He asked, guiding you onto the ballroom floor. Around you, couples swayed rhythmically to the saccharine music flowing throughout the room.

You stared at your joined hands before lifting your gaze back to his. “I don’t believe that’s something you earn in one evening, your highness.”

“Well, it’s fortunate that we have considerably longer than one evening.” Your jaw tightened at the humor laced within his tone.

His hand found its resting place on your waist, guiding you through the dance. “Must you always have an answer prepared?” You snapped, stepping on top of his polished shoes.

He stumbled only slightly before regaining his placing. “An unfortunate accident, I presume.”

“Precisely,” you responded, twirling around with the help of his hands.

“How reassuring,” he quipped, amusement dancing in his pale eyes.

“You don’t have to pretend to like me,” you muttered, avoiding the sharpness of his gaze with a tilt of your head.

“And you don’t have to pretend to hate me quite so much,” he replied smoothly.

Your grip on his hand tightened. “I don’t hate you,” you replied, shaking your head gently.

One pale brow rose.

“No?”

“No.” You swallowed. “I hardly know you.”

“Fair enough,” he flatly replied, a hint of amusement flickered over his pale features.

The orchestra swelled around you, drowning out the bustling conversation of nearby nobles. “You know,” you continued. “What I really hate is how everyone expects me to smile as if this is what I wanted.”

For the first time that evening, he did not have an immediate retort. “And if I told you that I understand?” He asked quietly, the teasing blue glint that had occupied his eyes once before had dissolved into something you couldn’t quit decipher.

“What exactly is it that you understand?” You asked.

His hand reminded steady against your waist as he guided you through another turn. “Being told your future before you can even grasp the chance to choose it.”

For a moment, you searched his expression for mockery. You found none. “So what? You expect me to believe that?” You quietly asked.

A faint smile returned to his lips. “No, I expect you’ll continue assuming the worst with me.”

“You haven’t given me much reason to do otherwise,” you dumbfounded. “You’re unfaithful, don’t think I didn’t hear you down the hall last night.”

“And you’ve given me every reason to believe you’d rather be dancing with literally anyone else in this room,” he tightened his grip on your waist.

“Oh, so you’re just going to ignore my last statement?” You snarled. Gojo smirked before spinning you and pulling you back in aggressively.

You slammed against his body, remaining in his hold the entire time. You glared up at him, “How mature.”

He chuckled, unfazed by the venom in your tone. “Coming from the woman who’s made a miserable attempt at crushing my toes this evening, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Asshole,” you mumbled, generously taking your gaze away from him.

“What was that?” he said lightly, you only shook your head.

For the rest of the dance, the two of you moved like two pieces to a puzzle—flawlessly in sync. Every step you took, he matched immediately. Every turn you tried to make sharper, he made the adjustment without effort, like he could read the intention behind your movement before you even committed to it.

The moment the dance ended, you stepped away from him before another word could be exchanged. Lords and ladies smiled as you passed, offering shallow congratulations and small remarks about producing a future heir.

You couldn’t bear another minute of it.

Excusing yourself with a strained smile, you slipped through the crowd and out onto the palace’s quieter corridors, occasionally peeking behind your shoulder to make sure there were no unwanted guests. Your feet carried you without though to the one place you could find genuine solitude in—an old, private garden near the back of the palace.

You had fatefully stumbled upon the garden as a young girl in the midst of a childish adventure. Since then, it had became a source of escape from your life and the responsibilities that come with being a princess. No one would ever think to look for you there, you didn’t even think anyone but you knew of this place.

Hidden away behind overgrown hedges and forgotten stone paths, it had felt like a secret tailored for you. There were no lessons to attend, no courtiers to impress, and no one looking to pick apart your every flaw.

The moment you’d stepped through the ivy-covered archway, the composure you’d maintained had finally cracked. You sank onto the edge of an old stone bench, pressing a trembling hand over your mouth. This wasn’t how you imagined adulthood. This wasn’t how you imagined marriage.

Hot tears blurred your vision despite the efforts to blink them away. Frustrated, you wiped at your cheeks only for more to follow. Quiet sobs escaped your burning throat, stealing your breath away.

“I was under the impression that princesses enjoyed their celebrations.”

The unfamiliar voice made you jerk upright, your head snapping toward the nearby path.

A man stood at the mouth of the gardene, partially obscured by the shadows cast by the overgrown bushes. Moonlight spilled across his features, revealing sharp eyes hidden behind an onyx mask and dark hair that had been loosely pulled back from his face. He was dressed in dark formal attire that told you he must’ve been a diplomat, there was an unmistakable elegance to him—as though he belonged where he chose to stand.

Unlike most people, he didn’t rush over, didn’t act like he hadn’t seen anything. Instead, he offered a small, almost sheepish incline of his head.

“My apologies,” he said. “If I had known the garden was occupied, I would’ve chosen a different path.”

Mortification flooded through you. Out of all the times anyone could’ve found you tonight, why did it have to be now?

Yet, there was something strange about him. He wasn’t staring at you. He wasn’t pitying you. He simply waited, like he was giving you the choice to send him away.

“W-Who are you?” You asked, quickly wiping away the remnants of tears from your cheeks.

The stranger seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if he was debating whether or not he should show you his identity.

“Suguru Geto,” he offered a small bow. “Though I fear my timing hasn’t allowed me to make the first impression I would prefer.”

You pursed your lips, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, “You think?”

A faint smile touched his lips, warm enough to ease some of the tension coiled in your chest. “You needn’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” Raising his finger to his lips, he offered a playful gesture of secrecy.

“How do I know that you won’t tell?” You asked, voice full of doubt.

Geto’s smile softened. “I guess you don’t, hm?” He said with a tilt of his head.

The answer caught you off guard. Most men of the court would have rushed to reassure you, drowning you in promises and flattery. Yet he simply stood there, hands clasped behind his back with no attempt to hide the truth.

“Trust isn’t something granted because of a request,” he continued. “It’s earned.”

“You’re correct,” you replied softly, unimpressed by the wisdom he displayed.

His gaze returned to you. “For tonight, all I can offer you is my word.”

“I guess I’ll just have to take it,” you deadpanned.

“If that isn’t enough, I suppose I’ll have to spent the rest of our acquaintance proving myself trustworthy,” he said with a small shrug.

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Oh?” You let out a quiet snort. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I suppose you’ll just have to find out.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not an answer.”

“No,” he agreed. “It isn’t.”

For a moment, a comfortable silence settled between you. Geto glanced around the garden before returning his attention to you.

“It’s beautiful here,” he added, sitting down on the bench you occupied.

“You think so?” you asked with a soft smile, crossing your legs in his direction. He nodded his head, “I do.”

“Most people don’t even know this place exists.”

“Then I consider myself fortunate, your highness,” he replied, his lips curving into a smirk.

The comment drew the faintest smile from you. “I used to come here a lot when I was younger.”

“To hide?” He chuckled.

You huffed a laugh, “Something like that.”

“And does it still work?”

The question lingered between you as your eyes drifted towards the radiant palace lights. “Always.” You hadn’t expected for him to actually make conversation with you, to actually acknowledge your feelings.

For the first time, Geto’s expression softened behind his mask. “Then perhaps it is a good hiding place after all.”

A quiet laugh escaped before you could stop it. “I suppose it is.”

The two of you fell silent once more, your eyes occupied on a pile of black dahlias dug into the ground. Geto glanced toward the palace in the distance where music still danced in the night air.

“Shouldn’t you be with your husband?” He asked with a tilt of his head.

The question caught you off guard, you gaze immediately dropping to the gravel beneath your shoes. You sighed, “Probably.”

Geto hummed thoughtfully. “That didn’t sound very convincing,” he replied. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Paradise?” You snickered. “That’s one way to describe it.”

Geto’s expression seemed to pause. “Not a fan of your husband, hm?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms across your chest. “I barely even know him.” Your answer came quicker than intended.

“And yet you’re married to him.” His deep violet eyes bored into yours as if he was searching for something in them.

“Yeah, that’s usually how arranged marriages work,” you deadpanned. He chuckled lightly, running his chiseled fingers through his raven tresses. “What? Don’t tell me you don’t have a wife,” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“What makes you think that?” A hint of amusement danced in his dark eyes as he regarded you.

You paused, shaking your head with a tilted smile. “You just don’t seem like the kind of guy to be single, is all,” you replied.

Another laugh escaped him, richer this time. “What are you trying to say, my princess?” The title rolled effortlessly off his tongue.

Crimson rose to your cheeks, “You’re charming,” you shrugged, leaning back into the bench slowly.

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Charming?”

You sighed, unbeknownst to what you’ve gotten yourself into. “Yes, annoyingly so.”

A pleasant smile spread across his features. “I’m truly flattered, your highness.”

“Don’t look so proud of yourself.”

“And here I thought it was a compliment,” he pouted, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense.

“It wasn’t,” you hastily replied, brushing your hands against the pieces of hair that fell against your face.

“I wasn’t aware of how cruel the Princess could be,” he scoffed playfully. “The rumors had me fooled.”

“Rumors?” Your eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. “And what do those rumors tell?”

A knowing smile tugged at his lips. “That you’re kind,” he spoke wisely, counting the rumors off on his fingers.

“Graceful.”

Then another.

“Patient.” His gaze flickered meaningfully toward you. “And, apparently, incapable of saying anything remotely insulting.”

A laugh escaped you despite the efforts you made to keep it hidden. “I’d like to say that they aren’t completely bogus rumors.”

“No?”

You shook your head. “I’m kind to those who deserve my kindness.”

“Am I lucky enough to be one of those individuals?” he questioned, slightly leaning closer towards you.

“We’ll see,” you said flatly with a soft shrug.

A quiet hum escaped him. “You’re a difficult woman to impress.”

“You noticed?”

“It’s becoming painfully obvious,” he said with a playful gaze.

Satisfaction overtook your features. “Good.”

Geto shook his head, a chuckle slipping past his soft lips. “Well, do you mind showing me around your hidden garden?”

You sat there for a moment, letting the question linger in between the presence of you both. “Why not?” You answered, pushing yourself off the stone bench.

What would be the trouble in showing him around, just a little?

Geto followed in pursuit, eyeing your silhouette generously. The scrutiny of his stare caused a soft heat to settle across your face, almost giving you away.

You dusted off your gloves as you walked, leading him down a narrow path in the garden brimmed with tall flowers that brushed against you as you passed. It began to feel less like a part of the estate and more like its own hidden world. Vines curled around old stone walls, and the air grew cooler, softer, like it belonged only to this place.

“There’s a beautiful bridge right up ahead, the pond below it has some pretty koi fish that you can feed,” you informed, turning around to make sure Geto was listening.

He nodded his head in amusement, “I’d love to see that.”

You turned your attention back to the sights in front of you. A soft smile tugged at your lips now that he couldn’t see, pleased that he felt interested.

Your heels fell silent against the overgrown grass as you guided him towards the stone bridge. The air nipped at your exposed skin, slipping beneath the velvet gloves that crept halfway up your arms.

You wrapped your arms around yourself without thinking, fingers brushing your upper arms for warmth. Beside you, Geto’s attention shifted, you could tell he noticed.

“You’re cold,” he said simply, like an observation rather than a question.

“I’m fine,” you replied too quickly, eyes focused on the way the garden bathed in a pool of milky, tranquil light provided by the full moon.

The sound of fabric moving interrupted the silence that followed you. Something warm settled over your shoulders, resting against you like it belonged there. You stilled, realizing it was his coat—heavy, unfamiliar, carrying the pleasant scent of him.

“You don’t have to, really,” you dismissed, yet you didn’t bother prying it off you.

“I want to,” he replied rather quickly, now covered in a thin white shirt that clung lightly to his frame, the fabric sheer enough to reveal the outline of his chiseled torso.

You quickly turned your head just as a warmth began to climb up your neck. You could feel his fox-like eyes watching you, making the sudden interest you had found in the surrounding garden seem entirely unconvincing.

“Okay-um, this is the bridge,” you stammered, avoiding his gaze as you motioned toward the arching stone path. The heat creeping towards your cheeks only intensified when a soft chuckle sounded from beside you, confirming he had realized you were flustered.

You resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands. “It’s a very nice bridge,” Geto offered after a moment.

You finally glanced at him, doing your very best to keep your eyes on the faint smile tugging at his lips and not at his bare torso beneath the flimsy shirt he wore. “You are impossible.”

A quiet laugh escaped him. You tore your gaze away, but not before it betrayed you, flickering downward for the briefest moment. Unfortunately for you, it was long enough for Geto’s sly eyes.

The knowing look that crossed his face made your stomach twist in embarrassment. “You seem distracted,” he mused.

Your stomach dropped. “No, not at all,” you replied quicker than you intended to. Geto regarded you for a moment before a small smile settled on his sharp features. “Of course.”

The obvious disbelief in his voice made you sigh, yet, he didn’t press any further. Instead, he stepped beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours as the two of you continued to cross the bridge.

Your heels tapped a steady rhythm against the stone path, the sound mingling with the rustle of leaves overhead and the gentle rush of water beneath the bridge. You came to a stop at the middle of the bridge, peeking over at the fish that swam elegantly through the water.

“I didn’t bring anything to feed them today, unfortunately,” you said, resting your forearms against the stone railing.

Geto stepped beside you, following your gaze to the water below. Moonlight danced across the surface, scattering fragments of silver over the fish as they drifted lazily below the bridge. Your reflection wavered as the current moved—distorted, soft around the edges. Beside it, his reflection accompanied yours, slightly offset compared to you. Side by side, even in the water, though neither of you moved closer.

Geto leaned forward a little, his mirrored gaze meeting yours beneath the rippling surface. “Not very flattering,” he remarked lightly.

You huffed a quiet laugh, “Water reflections rarely are.”

Eventually, you straightened, brushing your fingers lightly against the old stone. “Come on,” you said, glancing toward the path ahead. “There’s more further up.”

You stepped forward first, leaving the bridge behind. After a beat, you heard him follow, feet clicking against the firm stone. You guided him through a small forest, occasionally smoothing your hands over flowers that stuck out to you.

Roots curled beneath the earth like hidden veins as the path narrowed deeper into the garden. You held up the long skirts of your dress, stepping gingerly over every sharp weed that threatened to rip your skirt.

Eventually, the garden’s path opened again, revealing a weeping willow tree. It whipped and rustled through the wind in the most delicate way possible, draping itself in a way that made it look like it was bowing.

“This is my favorite thing out of the entire garden,” you informed, reaching your hand out to graze one of the elongated leaves.

“A weeping willow,” he continued. “How lovely.”

You smiled at his admiration. “I’m glad we share the same opinion.”

The branches swayed gently above you, trailing like brushes of green that painted the air in slow, quiet movements. The shade beneath the tree was cooler, the moonlight broken into sporadic patterns across the ground. You hugged his coat tighter against you, hoping for more warmth.

Geto stepped a little closer, tilting his head as he looked up through the hanging leaves. “It’s so…quiet,” his husky voice interrupted the silence. “I can see why you favorite it.”

You glanced his way, finding his large frame beneath the willow’s cascading branches. “It’s easier to think here,” you admitted after a moment.

“Or to avoid thinking,” he replied lightly.

You scoffed under your breath, though there was no real bite to it. “That depends on the day.”

His mouth curved into a smile. “And today?”

You hesitated, then looked away first. “I suppose today is somewhere in between.”

A quiet hum escaped him, as if he accepted that answer without needing more.

“Geto?” You called gently.

At the sound of his name, his attention sharpened, his head turning toward you as his gaze settled on your face. “Hm?” He answered, voice nothing short of calm.

“I appreciate how understanding you’ve been, I don’t usually get to be this open with people,” you admitted softly, still holding onto a branch.

Geto looked at you for a moment, his expression unreadable under the masquerade mask. “Of course, I’ve enjoyed this.”

A genuine smile crept across your face, even spreading through to your eyes. For a moment, you hesitated—your eyes lingering on the mask that covered half of his face. “Don’t you think I should be able to see your entire face?” You asked playfully, tilting your head.

Geto let out a quiet hum, almost amused. “And why is that?” He replied, tone light but measured.

You shrugged, trying to ignore how your heart had started to pick up pace. “It feels unfair. I’ve been talking to you this whole time, and I’m only getting half of the picture.”

That earned you a deep exhale of laughter from him. “Half of the picture might be preferable.”

“What? Are you hiding a monstrous face under there?” You snickered. “Or is that just your way of saying no?”

Geto exhaled softly, the sound carrying playful amusement. “If I were, I don’t think you would’ve gotten this far into our conversation.” He replied.

That made you pause, your smile faltering just a little as you looked at him more carefully. He didn’t seem to be hiding anything monstrous behind his mask—if anything, it seemed to be a silly thought. The part of his face you could see already gave you enough to imagine the rest: the sharp line of his jaw, the faint curve of his lips that always seemed to suggest he knew more than what he was saying.

He stepped closer—just enough for the space between you to feel noticeably smaller. “Besides,” he added, tone quieter now, “you were the one that brought me here.”

Your breath caught, though you tried not to show it. Yet, the creeping smirk on his face told you that he must’ve noticed. His hand rose to the edge of his mask, fingers pausing for a brief moment.

“Well, continue,” you said, ushering him with your hand.

“If I take off mine, you must return the favor,” he said, peering down at you.

Your brows lifted, “Fine, but you first.” A quiet pause followed your words.

Geto studied you for a moment, like he was making sure you were certain. “I suppose that’s fair,” he said, continuing to peel off his mask.

The fabric shifted slightly beneath his fingers before he lifted it away, revealing more of his face piece by piece. When it was finally gone, he didn’t immediately look away or break the moment. Instead, he simply watched you.

Without the barrier, his face felt different up close. It was striking, in a quiet, effortless way. A sharp jaw softened only by the ease of his expression, high cheekbones catching the moonlight that crept through the gaps in the willow leaves. His eyes held yours directly now.

Your mouth went dry at the sight of his face—he was so handsome, the kind of handsome you couldn’t even imagine. His eyes were the most arresting part, always focused and observant, noticing the slightest falter in your movement. Your mind stumbled on the idea of what it would feel like to be his lover. Would he look at you the same way he was doing currently? You quickly brushed away the thought, ashamed to be thinking of him in that way.

Suddenly, you felt very aware of yourself—of the pause in your breathing, of the way your stomach fluttered from his stare.

“Well?” He chuckled, “I’m starting to feel a bit insecure, your highness.”

That snapped you out of it. Your eyes widened slightly before you quickly recovered. “Don’t be dramatic,” you said, though it came out softer than you intended.

His smooth hands reached to cup your face, fingers grazing over the edges of your mask. You flushed, pupils widening with an unwavering stare. “Your turn,” he whispered, fingers sweeping across your cheekbones before he reached for your mask.

His touch was thoroughly gentle as he peeled off your mask, holding the back of your head to keep you still. You swallowed hard, now feeling self-conscious from his gaze.

A charming smile pried at his lips. “My princess, you are breathtaking,” he cooed, staring at you with a softened gaze.

Your face reddened, now that there were no barriers between the two of you, the interaction felt incredibly more intimate. You had never experienced anything such as this, being complimented like this by a man as handsome and charming as him.

“T-thank you,” you stammered, your eyes flickering to the grass beneath your feet. His hands stopped you, tilting your chin to meet his gaze. He leaned closer to you, deep brown eyes focused on your lips.

You quickly dodged him, breath hitched in your throat, “Geto, I’m-”

“You’re what?” He interrupted, tilting his head slightly.

“I’m married,” you whispered, shaking your head in rebellion. Despite your want, you couldn’t continue this. If your father found out-if anyone found out, you would be shunned.

The weight of your words didn’t seem to land the way you expected. He didn’t pull away. Instead, his expression shifted—confusion first, then something quieter. Not disbelief but like he was trying to understand if he had crossed a line.

His brows furrowed, “I thought you were unhappy with it?” He softly replied. His hands still lingered on your skin, providing a slimmer of warmth.

“I am,” you said quickly, then hesitated. The truth felt dangerous in your mouth. “Unhappy.”

A pause followed.

The distant sound of the garden—wind through leaves, water somewhere along the path, suddenly felt overwhelming. “But that doesn’t matter,” you added, forcing your voice steadier. “It’s already been decided. It’s done.”

His stare didn’t waver. If anything, it sharpened. “Decided by who?” He protested.

You should’ve stepped back, you should’ve ended it right there. Despite the consequences, you stayed still. “My father,” you said, grasping onto his shoulders. “If he ever found out I was with you tonight, he’d be furious!”

“So don’t let him find out,” he countered. His words settled beneath you like a spark dropped into dry grass. And for a moment, you almost laughed. Your grip on his shoulders tightened instinctively, more from panic than intention. The idea was so simple in his mouth, so reckless, like your father’s authority was just a matter of secrecy.

“You don’t understand,” you said, voice sharper now. “It’s not just ‘don’t let him find out.’ If he suspects anything—if anyone sees me here with you, they’ll talk,” you explained. “When people talk, it’s bound to reach him.”

Your hands fell away slowly, “He doesn’t forgive things like that.”

The air between you felt different now. He hadn’t stepped away, but the closeness suddenly felt like pressure. His expression shifted to something unreadable, “We’re already past the point of pretending like nothing happened.”

You sighed, knowing that he was completely right and there was nothing you could do about it. “We’re completely isolated here,” he added. “You said so yourself, no one even knows this place exists.”

His argument should’ve comforted you, yet, it made your heart race. Because if no one could see you, then there was nothing left to blame for the way your heart reacted whenever he looked at you. There were no obligations or audience, just your own choices to blame.

Your fingers curled into the expensive fabric of your dress as you searched desperately for another reason, another barrier to put between you. “What you’re implying is dangerous.”

A faint smirk tugged at his porcelain lips. “What I’m implying is that you’re spending more time worrying about tomorrow than living through tonight.”

You swallowed hard. The conviction in his voice was infuriating. Even worse, a part of you craved to believe him. His gaze softened as it lingered on your face, studying every bit of uncertainty.

“I’m not asking for anything except for this moment, your highness,” he whispered, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a quick peck.

His words settled heavily in your mind like a viral plague, corrupting your thoughts with his own. For the first time that evening, you had no argument to give.

“May I?” He whispered, voice intoxicating and full of desire. His eyes flickered between your irises and your lips, like he was unsure what he should be focused on.

You paused, unable to ignore the sudden temptation flowing through your veins. Your mind went to the tousled white hair and cerulean eyes of your husband, then to Geto’s jet black, silky locks and his sharp eyes that held you under the most understanding scrutiny. Guilt twisted in your chest at the thought that you were more attracted to the stranger standing in front of you than the stranger you were betrothed to.

His eyes never left you once, waiting for the answer you were bound to give. “Yes,” you replied softly.

Your response ignited something deep inside of him, his smooth hands reached for the sides of your face before gently pressing his lips to yours. A choked gasp left your throat, muffled by his smooth lips. Your knees almost went weak from the blistering feeling in your stomach.

His hand pulled you firm against him, pressing against the back of your waist. Your hands hovered by your side awkwardly before finding place in his delicate hair. The way he kissed you was impeccable, like he was exploring every inch of your lips in the most gentle ways. You were practically shaking in his arms as he held onto you like it was his last time living.

You pulled away with a gasp, completely out of breath. Your head snapped to the area behind you, searching for anyone that could’ve seen what just happened. The warmth of his hand interrupted you, pulling your focus back to his flushed face.

“There’s no one here, just us,” he cooed, brushing tousled pieces of hair behind your ear. You almost fainted at the sight of him—his hair disheveled, your lipstick spread across his lips, his eyes dark and thoroughly focused on you.

“W-We shouldn’t have done that,” you stammered, shaking your head. The rest of the palace must’ve realized your absence and came searching for you by now. You could hear the strain in your own voice, the words sounding weak even to your own ears.

Geto remained where he was, holding onto your waist as he watched you struggle with your own thoughts. “And yet,” he murmured, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “You didn’t stop me.”

Your breath caught as the reminder appeared once again. A knot twisted in your stomach at the thought of your father searching the palace up and down for you. “They’ll be looking for me,” you said, slowly backing up. “My father-if anyone sees us.”

“If anyone sees us,” Geto interrupted quietly, “I’ll take the blame.”

The night air seemed impossibly still, time seemed to falter like the moonlight carved your bodies into stone. Then Geto exhaled and straightened, putting a fraction more distance between you. The gesture was small but deliberate.

“You should go back before they send half the kingdom searching for their missing princess,” he added, delicately sliding your mask back onto your face.

“Probably a wise idea,” you added, shaking your head humorously. The moment was already slipping through your fingers, and part of you didn’t want to let it go. You took off his coat and handed it to him with a soft smile. Giving him one last longing look, you picked up your dress and slowly made your way out of the willow tree’s grasp.

“Wait!” His voice called out before you could take another step. The vulnerability in his voice was enough to stop you. You froze, turning around to meet his piercing eyes.

Behind you, Geto stood motionless waiting for you. “Will you give me the pleasure of seeing you again, my princess?” He called after you, his voice softer than ever.

You hesitated, unsure of whether you should listen to your mind or your heart. Your mind urged you to leave—forget about the handsome and mysterious stranger and focus on your husband. Your heart was far less reasonable. It remembered the warmth of his touch, the gentleness hidden behind his bulging muscles, and the way he looked at you like you were more than a title or a crown.

You lowered your gaze, fighting the smile threatening to betray you. “Perhaps,” you said at last, glancing back over your shoulder. “If fate is feeling exceptionally generous.”

A quiet laugh escaped him. “Then I’ll be praying for fate’s generosity.”

The smile that finally broke across your face came before you could stop it. With one look in his direction, you turned and disappeared into the moonlit pathways leading back to the palace, all too aware of the weight of his gaze lingering on your retreating figure.

As you finally reached the garden’s entrance, a quiet sense of relief flooded through your body. Yet, your thoughts still raced from the previous events. As you stepped between the stone archway, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows.

Your heart nearly stopped.

“There you are.”

Satoru Gojo stood there with his arms crossed, leaning casually against the garden wall as though he hadn’t spent the last several minutes searching for you.

His relaxed posture lasted for all of two seconds. The moment his eyes landed on you, his expression shifted. His eyes swept over your appearance—the slightly crooked mask, the loose strands of hair that fell from your careful styling, the faint flush still lingering on your cheeks.

Then his eyes settled on your lips and your stomach dropped. One pale thumb brushed across your lower lip on instinct, wiping off a smudge of lipstick.

Gojo’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “Princess,” he said slowly, all senses of amusement absent from his voice for the first time. “You look a little…disheveled.”

The accusation hung between you. You swallowed hard, “I tripped over a weed in the garden.”

The excuse sounded ridiculous the moment it came out of your mouth. Clearly, Gojo felt the same, one of his pale brows arched in disbelief. “A weed?”

“A particularly vicious one,” you added.

His stare lingered on you for a second too long. “Interesting,” his gaze drifted to the loose strands of hair framing your face. “I don’t remember weeds having the ability to tousle hairstyles.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, pulling back the unruly loose strands behind your ears. “I actually fell into a bush after I tripped.”

A laugh escaped him, though it lacked its usual carefree quality. “And the lipstick?” He verbalized, holding up the mauve smudge on his thumb.

Your heart lurched as a small gasp escaped you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shook your head, unable to come to any good excuse.

“Really?” He interrogated, pushing himself off of the stone wall and taking a few measured steps closer. You fought the urge to retreat, glaring at him with false confidence.

Gojo stopped in front of you, his striking cerulean eyes narrowing as they searched your face. Usually there was a playful light in them, but now they seemed too observant.

“That’s strange,” he mused. “From where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve had a far more interesting evening than the rest of us.”

Your brows drew together. “You’re being dramatic.” Despite the calm facade you wore, your thoughts were scrambling.

“Am I?” His gaze flickered down to your lips once more before returning to your eyes. “Your hair is a mess, your lipstick is smudged, and you’re acting like you’re being questioned by the royal guard.”

Heat flooded your face. “How rude!” you huffed, glaring at him with everything you had. “Also, no I’m not?”

“(name),” he said, fighting back a smile. “You’ve been backing away from me for the last thirty seconds.” Your shoulders bumped lightly against the stone archway, the realization only making the embarrassment worse.

Gojo’s smile widened, something unreadable lingering beneath it. “Who was it?”

The question landed like a stone to your stomach. Your breath hitched in your throat as breathing seemed to become ten times harder than before.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Behind you, the garden gate stood open, moonlight spilling across the path. And somewhere beyond it, hidden among the shadows, was a man neither of you mentioned.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, hoping the false confusion seemed truthful.

Gojo let out a low hum, unconvinced. “You’re really going to make me spell it out?”

You tilted your head slightly, “I have no idea what you’re implying.”

“Sure you don’t,” he antagonized, his gaze fixed on your face before drifting toward the vast garden behind you. The darkness concealed the winding pathways and flowering hedges, revealing none of the secrets within. When his eyes returned to yours, a knowing smile tugged at his lips.

“Then I suppose it’s purely a coincidence that you disappeared halfway through the ball and returned looking like that,” he added.

Your stomach twisted, “looking like what?”

“Like you’ve been up to something.”

“That’s hardly evidence of anything.”

“No,” he admitted. “But your reaction is.”

You picked at the edges of your bodice, wishing for any source of salvation from your husband’s scrutiny. Gojo’s smile widened ever so slightly, like he noticed every crack in your composure.

“Relax, Princess. If you’re trying to convince me nothing happened, you’re putting far too much effort into it.”

You opened your mouth to protest, only to find yourself at a loss for words. The silence that followed was an answer enough.

Gojo chuckled softly and shook his head. “That’s what I thought.” He stepped aside and gestured toward the palace. “Come on. Before someone notices the guest of honor has gone missing.”

Yet as he fell into step beside you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t nearly as fooled as he pretended to be. The ease in his posture faded just slightly as the palace lights came into view.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” He asked suddenly.

You blinked. “What?”

“I mean it,” his voice softened a fraction. “If someone bothered you in there…” he didn’t finish his sentence but the air between you changed anyway.

The palace doors came into view like looming towers. Music spilled faintly through the walls. Laughter, glasses clinking, the distant hum of celebration seemed entirely like a different world.

“Try not to look like you committed treason,” he muttered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“I don’t,” you whispered back automatically.

The doors opened, warm light almost blinded you as voices rushed out to greet you. From the moment you stepped foot into the ballroom, the garden and everything that happened vanished behind gilded walls.

Somewhere behind the hedges, unseen in the dark, a presence remained. Watching, waiting, and smiling like none of this was over yet.

©satorussolace all rights reserved. Do not copy, plagiarise, translate, or modify my works.

"uh, of course, dear … um, wife." the word slipped from his tongue before he's able to proceed. and when he realized what he just called you, satoru's face burned even more.

wife. that's right, you're his wife.

"are you alright, satoru …? your face is turning one similar to those apples," you uttered, tone laced with one of worries.

you take a few steps closer which make him instinctively back away, worried that the proximity might just unravel him more. that action of his got you halted abruptly, blinking in confusion and hurt. your brows now furrowing in a manner that got satoru's heart dropped. you look like he just shatters you.

he immediately saunters towards you, panicking. "no, no, no. i didn't intend on hurting you," he said, wishing for your understanding. satoru's hand, slightly trembling from panic, reaches to gently cradle your face. his touch felt distant, yet dear all at the same time. the way he's holding you makes it seem as if he's afraid you might crumble under his touch.

"you're alright, my husband," you whisper softly, staring into his eyes that are wavering. your fingers slowly find their way to his hands on your face. "i was worried i had offended you."

as if you could ever offend him.

he shakes his head at your words, eyes fluttering when your soft fingertips caress the back of his hand. "you could never do anything wrong."

you chuckle lowly at his words, sounding amused. the fear that was etched to your face now disintegrates into thin air, replacing it with a warm smile. and oh, satoru's heart skipped a beat at the sight. "i'm glad," you whisper.

the two of you stay in that position for a while, delicately embracing one another in each other's warmth. and for a while, everything falls into their rightful place.

for a while.

the sun was enveloping the earth in a loving hug that day, keeping it warm. a beautiful, sunny day, that's blessed by helios. it seems that the god of sun was particularly in a delightful mood.

birds chirping sounds surround you, complimenting your humming. as if it's answering one another, you feel the birds are singing alongside you.

it's been a while since your feet rooted on the ground of the earth, living your life as the first mortal woman, and the only one at that time. and it's been even longer since you were sculpted by the god and goddesses of olympus for one sole purpose— a gift from them to mankind.

satoru gojo, specifically.

you were given quite the blessings of the olympians.

aphrodite gives you unparalleled beauty, grace, and desire; her half-brother, hermes, gave you a cunning, deceitful mind; god of music, arts, and knowledge—apollo—gave you the ability to play the lyre and sing, something you often do as you stroll around the earth; athena clothed you, as well as taught you needlework and all kinds.

it wasn't just those four, there were more gods and goddesses that took part in carving you to the human you're now. those four are just the ones that blessings shine through you even from a distance.

oh, right. your father—zeus—had also given you a gift. two gifts, precisely; curiosity and a box that's sealed.

a box that you were told never to open whatever the case. the courage in you to open it dies the moment you find out it's sealed tightly, bestowed with zeus’s thoughtfulness, making you unable to peek inside it. thoughtless, is more a correct word for it, if you're allowed to be painfully true.

how are you supposed to live carefree, when your father gifted you curiosity and a box he made you swear you'll never open? it's a torture. especially when you've been given a deceitful mind by hermes, too. it's no wonder that a never-ending whisper of lying, breaking the promise to never open the box keeps stroking your mind.

the box itself is calling you.

sometimes when you let your guard down, you find the wind paves a way for you to the box. in a way, it felt like someone was pulling your hand towards it. no, maybe pushing you is the more correct term.

although, you keep wondering if it's truly sealed tight and secured or whether your father is just playing with you. and even though the courageous in you died, the one gift he allowed you to have was sparkling in a way that's blinding that day.

it's not a dim light, anymore.

not a single human knows at that time, but the presents zeus gave you will be able to devour the earth in darkness, albeit only for a while. for satoru, though? time stopped ticking for him, ever since.

because satoru’s ending is different from other souls' whose feet are planted on the ground; it's world shattering.

his world.

satoru's arms are wrapped around your waist from behind in a tight, yet gentle hug. his lips slowly trailing against the side of your neck, placing a soft, lingering kiss to the canvas that's you.

you giggles softly at the contact, feeling ticklish and warmth. the hand of yours is moving around, chopping some fruits from the garden that you picked out yesterday.

today, satoru will be visiting his brother who's being punished for stealing zeus’s fire. the action of satoru's brother was the reason why your father decided to send you here, as a misfortune for mankind.

not that anyone knows, yet.

it all started when satoru's brother tricked your father during a sacred offering. and zeus was extremely enraged at the audacity that satoru's brother had to trick him. so, in return he decided to punish humanity—the ones satoru's brother cares about—by withholding the fire.

zeus's action had the earth in shambles, as it's something essential for mankind to survive.

it's an understatement to say that everything turned into chaos. and satoru's brother, with all the courage that burns through his veins, he decided to respond zeus's action by stealing your father's fire from the home of olympian: mount olympus.

he walked there to the workshop of hephaestus, crept towards the anvil there to grab a spark from the divine hearth. satoru's brother stored it in a hollow stalk of fannel he had prepared before returning it to mankind, the mortals. it was safe to say zeus's wasn't going to let that betrayal go.

and there where you came, the one who they refer to as "all-gifted" to show humanity and satoru's brother divine authority.

satoru's brother was chained to a rock in the caucasus mountains, where his liver would be devoured by an eagle and grow overnight. the eagle would visit again the next day, repeating the same thing. a titan is immortal, after all.

today is one of the day's where satoru would visit his brother to have a conversation, as they're quite close. so, you decided to prepare your dear husband fruits for his journey.

"the weather is quite nice today. it seems helios is pleased," you spoke.

satoru return the words by pulling you even closer to him, letting out a soft sigh. "i suppose he is," he paused. "should we stroll around after my return?"

"mhm, that would be wonderful. i’ll be waiting for your return, then." you turned around, holding the cut up fruits that are neatly packed in a box now, and handed it to him.

your husband's embrace on you loosen as he takes a step back, gaze darting at you one last time before he leans in to press a gentle kiss against your lips with his hand moving to cup your face, delicately.

his lips move against yours in a slow, torturous kiss. the kiss is languid, as both of your lips dance in a savouring way. you can feel the way his hands are slightly trembling as the kiss went deeper each second passed. a low hummed left your lips before you pull away, breathing slightly ragged. "we can continue this later, satoru."

satoru wanted to protest, but he decided not to when he realizes that you two have all the time in the world. he sees you every day, too, while he only visits his brother some time. "alright. i will be missing you for the time when we're apart," he whispered, hand falling to his side.

you respond to his words with giggles, pushing him away from the kitchen. "i shall see you later, dearest husband."

dearest husband.

the words that left your lips got him shuddering. he suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to have you close, never letting you go.

"... alright," he replied.

even though he wants to stay, he knows he should go visit his brother. he'll spend more time with you again later when he returns. and tomorrow, too, maybe.

satoru cast a last glance at you before disappearing from your sight and the home that's the witness of the love shared between you two. and the only trace left of you, will be in that home.

it's calling you, again.

you're sweeping around the comfort of your home when you feel being pushed by the wind towards the room where the box is placed.

no, no, not again, you chant in your head.

these past few days have been hell on earth for you as curiosity keeps growing and showing its fangs at you. it's to the point where you feel that you're strangled by an invisible rope, unable to let yourself go. you've been dreaming about the box countless times in a matter of a week.

each day you find that it’s getting harder to ignore the way you're being pulled to the box no matter how hard you try to resist. sometimes, you even find yourself already standing in front of the room with your hand on the knob before letting go as if being electrocuted by your father's lighting bolt. and that scenario is what's happening this very second.

the only difference is that even though you felt that you were electrified, you still chose to open the door. revealing the box that's draped by a fabric, hiding it. you take a deep breath before walking inside, closing the door behind you with your feet as your eyes stuck on the box.

and you slowly make your way towards it, approaching the box with the curiosity that's shining blindingly in the room— luminaries it alight.

it whispers, again.

at this moment, you know nothing will be able to stop you from opening this box. let it be that you shatter your father's trust, the thoughtfulness that he placed upon this box will be broken by you today.

you slowly lower yourself to the ground, hands slowly raising to pull over the fabric that's draped against the box before revealing it in all its glory. this is the first time you see the box after quite a while and it really is a divine thing. anyone can tell how this is a befitting gift from the king of gods himself.

"... may i not regret the decision i take, father. forgive me for i have broken your trust," you mumble to yourself and to the wind, hoping it'll deliver your apology to your father.

every being on the earth is doomed the moment you open the box. your hand slipped from the box when it opened, a tremendous force is forcing themselves out of there. you fall to your back, watching in horror as evil that were trapped securely inside the box submerged outside and roamed around the room— some seeing themselves out.

ah, no, no, you repeat with fear as you scramble towards the box.

it was too late, though. every worst dream a human can think of has been freed from the box which was supposed to trap them there. your hand forcefully pushes the box to close, holding it down with every strength that's in you. your heart beats rapidly against your chest, wanting to let themselves free.

"i screwed up, i shouldn't have done that—"

a creek sound of a door opening echoes throughout the whole house, startling you as you look towards the door. brows furrowing in confusion. and in the deepest part of your heart, you feel a strong uneasiness.

who is it? satoru? you thought, with cautious and terror.

sounds of footsteps, heavy and ominous, had you clinging to the box tighter. it's becoming too close and clear to where the room you're at. the knob slowly rattles open, revealing a figure of a human you've never seen before. some man with a lean figure shows himself before you, holding a weapon.

a hunter can always smell the fear from its prey.

"you … you're going to pay for the misfortune your father has bestowed upon us!" he screams before running towards you. edge of his weapon eyes to eyes with you, sharp.

it was all you can remember before everything turns dark.

satoru's breathing heavy as he ran towards the comfort of his home.

the moment he sees evilness roaming around, he knows something isn't right. he can sense something has titled off balance. he can feel the way his guts rearrange themselves inside him when he's at the entrance to your home. the door is open— something that both you and him know not to do. never, to be precise.

within a minute, he's already inside the house, eyes darting around to catch if there's anything that's out of place or odd. and that's when the corner of his eyes catches one off the room door open wide.

the room to the box.

satoru's heart was beating fast as he slowly made his way to the room. for some reason, he felt this overwhelming feeling that his life has turned into the worst thing any being can imagine.

"... dearest?" he calls for you, voice trembling out of fear.

and when there's no answer, his feet move fast towards the room while his mind starts to replay images of you— starting from the very first moment you two meet.

you smile warmly at him, cheeks slightly flush as you stand behind your father's figure.

'this is my daughter, satoru. she shall serve you as your wife. a gift, from me to you,' zeus said with a wide grin.

satoru blink a few times, watching you with a confused expression and slightly bewildered at zeus's words. your father is offering you as a gift, to him? the brother of the one who's currently being punished on caucasus mountains?

'don’t accept any gifts, satoru.'

his brother's words where he warned him not to receive any gifts from anyone, especially zeus, had his mind going dizzy. satoru's reeling from the warning and how you're standing there extremely stunning and graceful.

'i shall accept your gift.' the words slipped from his mouth in a tone that's sure. not mirroring the horror of realization that's starting to creep on his face. though it only lasts for a moment before he catches the way your skin burns red

zeus's smile widens, his eyes gleaming in mischief that are overshadowed by the presence of his daughter— the only mortal woman created.

'she'll be in your care, then.'

he promised to himself that he'll protect you even if it's only by heart, where he's the only one who could listen to it. still, his promise was as pure as aether and as divine as ichor, the ethereal fluid that ran through his veins. satoru himself made sure that it's a prayer to hestia. 

satoru throws out every dignity he has as a titan for you, starting that day. for you, his dearest wife. a mortal.

and he failed.

the sight that greets him is atrocious. air is knocked from his lungs and he can feel the way time stops when he takes in the view of you laying on the ground. blood flows around you, from you. you're laid there with scarlet fluid wrapping you in a rigorous way.

he lurched to your side, his clothes slowly soaked by your blood that now surrounds him, too. with his arms that's in tremor, he weakly holds you, gaze flickering towards where the blood let themselves free.

if only he runs faster. this may not happen.

"... i shouldn't— have opened it," you whisper, voice cracking.

and satoru who's holding you dear in his arms, listening the way your voice slowly gets lower, can feel how the sound of yours woven into an invisible thread that's unbreakable, unchanging while it slowly wrapped around his neck. strangling him.

the thread of life, thread of fate.

everyone knows that not a single soul can destroy the thread, as it's a nature that is indestructible. a determined destiny, ending for both morals and immortals.

no voice came out of his mouth. satoru's throat is choked by the truth that's laid right before him, something that'll haunt him for the rest of his life. enveloping his world in a darkness that wont cast away. he swears that in this second, at this very moment, he can listen to the laughs of the moirai as they watched him drowning in misery.

another tear trickles down from your corner eyes, kissing your tears stained cheeks as your hand slowly reaches to brush the hair that obstructs the eyes you've fallen for the short time you're able to call yourself his wife.

oh, the sight of you almost breathless will crawl to him wherever he goes. it's clinging to the space in his ribs, slowly making its way to the crack in his soul that's getting wider each day past since you left.

"it slipped my mind … to say it this morning— and i, i apologize for it. but … good morning, my dearest …"

satoru might as well just ripped apart his body and gauge his heart out at the sound of your voice that's starting to die down. he would've run to the kitchen, searching for something that may take his life away, so he's allowed to spend another more minute with you. however, he can't. there's no scenario where that might happen.

the man is a titan, immortal.

"i— love you," he mumbled. it slips from between his lips like an offering, wishing for the moirai to take pity and change the thread that's lace for him. even though he understands it's a nature that's unchangeable.

you offer him a small smile, warming the coldness that has engulfed the whole room when your body drops to the floor when the mortal stabs you in your lower abdomen, six times. the hand of yours now finds ways to stroke his cheek, as you gather the last strength that's left in you to mutter one last thing.

"… our time was short— but, i really … love our life," a long pause came as you struggled to breathe even a second longer. "— i would, i would never have … the chance to say this again. good night, satoru … you were delightful."

with that, your thread of destiny has been completed. your sole purpose as the first and only mortal woman to be created has found its ending.

you, who's able to let your soul roam free because he came in time. the hope that let themselves free from the box, after you crawl yourself to open it again, answers your prayer. this time, the calling of the box was something you're grateful for. something you wouldn't trade for anything. 

while satoru, the titan, the immortal, will continue his life wandering around in circles. losing the purpose of his life after he watched the love of his life, the one thing he has poured his heart to, closes her eyes.

after all, everything that happened is orchestrated by the olympians. and satoru should've known better.

( ✦ ) @besidesjustmyamour @httpskrys @1stmagnoila @vegasbabyyyy @mariteez @babybitchy12 @violetpurplez @scaraslover @ritsatoru @enouche @wh1ms1soul @raendarkfaerie @bakugouswaif @mellyie @angelita-uchiha @vamqyx @luvleixo @iam-souless @taylorissogoofy @liveforkny @cruziival72 @buhchira @jennyistrendy @fushiguroooozzz @sovaintilla @fxckinbreathe @neutralizeeverymaninsight @loowyinsixeyes @withersworld @bunnydoeprincesspink @daddyaremi @whispers-of-aurora @sexykissesss @nanahach1

You weren't a troublemaker per se, but you weren't a stuck-up academic weapon either, so you have no clue why you ended up with the top student in his major.

Satoru Gojo, astrophysics and science nerd.

It happened slowly, through little sticky notes and small gifts of candy on your usual desk in the lecture halls, him sitting one chair closer in the library each time you went.

And then one date that made you fall head over heels for this shy weirdo.

And you got to know his closest friend, Suguru Geto, who was more on the alternative artistic side. But he was fun to get stoned with.

You inhaled the smoke, about to pass the rest of the smoked-out blunt back to the long-haired male across from you, when a sudden knocking on the window startled your zen.

The knocking turned into full banging and a familiar, whiny voice.

"Suguru… u..unlock the damn door! What are you two doing in there with her? Smoking?? That's bad for YOU-"

Suguru groaned, pulled the keys out of his pocket, and unlocked the car doors, clearly irritated by the white-haired one catching you both.

The moment he got the door open, you were pulled out, a barrage of smart and large words thrown at Suguru about weed and how it can ruin his health, not to mention how bad it is to give it to you and blablalbabllaaaa.

You could feel Satoru's hands on you tremble, blunt nails dragging your clothes a bit while having you squished close to his chest, his eyes looked like he wanted to burst out crying, clearly shaken up over this even while giving a lecture.

Satoru really only calmed down when you started walking away with him, not even getting to say a goodbye to Suguru, too busy being pulled away by your boyfriend.

"Tooruu…. c'mon, relax. We weren't doing anything…" You sighed, feeling his hand on your waist tighten a bit, leading you through the campus to the dormitories.

"Not doing anything? Why didn't you t..tell me you two were hanging out? I'd come too..!" Satoru grumbled, fumbling with his glasses after stepping inside the building, fidgeting, refusing to look at you.

"You don't even smoke. Are you jealous?"

"Wha..! Me? Feel envious over MY girlfriend sitting in MY best friend's car together and SHARING weed? No." He puffed up his cheeks a bit.

"Relax, babe. "

"I am relaxed. We are g..going to my room to show you how r…relaxed I am."

You sighed, holding his hand while walking up a few flights of stairs, watching Satoru fumble around with his keys before finally getting the door unlocked, ushering you inside right after.

"If I had known you'd freak out over something like that, I wouldn't have gone…" You mumbled, toeing off your shoes.

Satoru seemed to get a bit more on edge from that comment, already battling unfamiliar emotions inside- he hadn't had a girlfriend before you, so feeling possessive or jealous was new.

"Did he ask you to meet him?" The white-haired one's voice came out a bit too rough.

"Yeah, we have met up a few times like that already."

"Oh… so you like Suguru?"

"Maybe." You roll your eyes, getting a bit annoyed now, walking further into the dorm and plopping down on Satoru's bed, staring up at him.

Your attitude didn't go unnoticed.

"Maybe?" Satoru stood up fully straight, the pout on his lips turning more into a frown.

"Yeah, maybe he wouldn't care about me spending some time with friends." You scoff, only adding to the anger bubbling up the white-haired male's throat.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He walked in front of you, subconsciously forcing his knee between yours, having you spread your legs to accommodate him standing between them.

The look in his blue irises behind those clunky glasses wasn't of some pathetic nerd who would let his woman cuck him and force him to watch from the corner. I mean, he totally would do that if you wanted him to- but not the time.

You could tell he was getting pissed now, fingers clenching and unclenching, glaring down at you as if he wanted to bite you.

…Hot.

It wouldn't hurt to egg Satoru on a bit, no?

What was he gonna do?

Nothing. (wrong)

Your lips formed a small smirk, your eyes almost gleaming as you leaned back on the palms of your hands, keeping your legs spread a bit too wide to be innocent.

"Nothing. Just that maybe he'd be a better boyfriend for me." You cooed out, being provocative.

Satoru's eye twitched.

The dorm room went silent for a second, just the two of you breathing.

You wanted to keep pushing, opening your mouth- but a strong hand wrapped around the front of your throat, thumb digging into the side to silence you.

"Shut it." Satoru squeezed out of himself, holding back from growling, the way he had leaned down, forcing you to look up at him, had his white bangs fall into his eyes.

Seeing your usual meek nerd get like this had your panties wet.

He was so mean, so so mean.

Satoru had you roughly shoved back and flipped around, his glasses hanging on for dear life while pulling your pants down just enough, not bothering to properly take anything off- panties pulled to the side and a thumb lodged inside of your pathetic cunt, pushing it up against your walls to stretch you out.

"Why him, huh? You really think Suguru could have you this wet just by a few touches? I don't think so."

All you could do was whimper and try to wiggle away, face mushed into a soft pillow, arching your back after a rough slap was delivered to your thigh for trying to run.

"Stay still, didn't you want this?"

"Suguru wou-" Your attempt at being a brat again had the palm that had spanked you slapped over your mouth, forcing your head to be pulled back and your spine to bend more, having your legs tremble.

"I said, shut it."

An embarrassingly large boner had flopped out of Satoru's boxers after you moaned and whined around his hand for a moment- the angry tip nudging at your slick folds, purposefully not even going near the glistening entrance.

"F..fine… shit… if you want to speak… better beg for it." Satoru leaned over you, chest against your back, chin hooked over your shoulder to listen.

Not like he was going to make this easy.

He did take his hand off of your lips, drool smeared across the palm.

"I'm not begging." You tried to talk back, gasping for air when he dragged his hard cock up and down your pussy.

"Beg for it." Satoru breathed out, his hips grinding down against your ass.

"No- mmphn!"

Thick fingers were shoved into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, middle and ring fingers sliding back and forth on the twitching muscle.

"C'mon, I know you can. Stop being a brat."

This had you thinking for a bit, who knows what he'd do if you didn't comply.

"Pll..hh..hheasshhee.." You managed to speak around the digits, spit already wanting to spill down your chin.

"Please what? I don't understand you, silly girl."

"Plluhleasee fuchhk mhhee.."

How embarrassing, you have never been the one to beg.

"Good girl. But I'm still mad."

You could feel it, the way he let you suck on his fingers while driving a meaty dick inside- not caring for the cries you let out after going too deep.

Your thighs were held together by his, forced to have them smack together after each thrust- eyes rolling back when Satoru started to leave hickeys, biting and nipping the skin of your shoulder and arm, anything his mouth could get to while lying on top of you.

"Never."

thrust

"Forget.''

thrust

"You're m..mine…"

thrust

"Mine…"

The lewd sounds of your sopping cunt and his leaking pre had your head spinning, almost crying from each rough plunge inside.

All you could do was nod in agreement, nails digging into the sheets- bed shaking from the force of Satoru trying to fuck your brain full of him.

He waited for you to cum, having you spasm and tremble a bit, feeling you clench around his aching cock as if you had never had dick this good.

He wasn't done yet.

Glasses askew, he had flipped you over again, quickly pulling out and moving forward- a deliciously dripping cockhead right above your face, two eager hands jerking it.

Satoru made sure to paint your face, letting every last drop get on your skin, smearing and guiding most of the cum to your mouth.

Obviously you kissed the spent tip, swirling your tongue around it for a second.

That had your boyfriend whine, quickly fix his glasses, and look away- as if the tough guy thing had disappeared.

He did feel a bit bad, lying down and cuddling you right after, even licking some of his own seed off of your skin to nuzzle his cheek against yours, acting all cute now while you struggled to catch your breath.

"M s..sorry… I just got nervous ab..bout you being alone with… Sugu.."

"When I get nervous, I imagine everyone around me naked. It helps, Toru."

"WHAT? Y-YOU SHOULDN'T THINK OF ANYONE ELSE NAKED BUT ME!!"

Yoon's notes: short GULP

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art: @/3vangel1ne_ 

tags: from @yoonchokes

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all work belongs to @yoonsucks , do not copy, repost, translate or feed into AI !!

Your memories were hazy, your thoughts scattered, but your eyes were focused – on the brightness up above, and how it illuminated the darkness all around.

"I need you to stand"

You didn't want to.

Because if you brought your eyes back, you'd see it again – your red hands. Sukuna's red hands.

The corpses lying next to you.

Was it so wrong to look somewhere else?

Your body had practically given out already, every nerve ending numb and your stomach completely emptied, the stench of it's contents making a vile mix with the blood that stained your clothes.

You didn't want to, but your face was unceremoniously moved away from the safety of the moon's glow, and turned towards another beautiful vision – Sukuna's eyes, so red and sharp, casting an even brighter light as the fire of the beacon shone within them, consuming you whole.

You could feel it now; how he had two large palms cupping your cheeks. You could somewhat feel how his fingers dug into your cheeks, but it was a faint sensation more than anything. Your body didn't exactly feel yours anymore, just a sack of meat and bones that you were vaguely aware of.

"Tch" you saw Sukuna grimace. Was he unhappy with you? Had you done something?

You wanted to reach your hand to him, but it didn't move. Wanted to apologise for whatever it was, but the words didn't leave your lips. You tasted salt, but it wasn't seawater – maybe you were crying. Was that why he wasn't happy?

While your brain tried to make sense of this dreadful world around you, it suddenly shifted completely. Sukuna hooked an arm under your legs and another on your back, and lifted you up with ease.

Your head danced as you struggled to focus your eyes again, looking at everything from above now, in Sukuna's embrace.

And there, you saw it.

The boy you had killed.

Everything became too real again, too fast.

"Sukuna–" you cried, digging your nails onto his shoulders, turning to hide your face in his chest. If everything had gone numb for a few seconds, now it was like being electrocuted back to reality.

"You're ok" he said, but you felt him exhale. Clearly he was glad you had seemed to come back to yourself… even if you weren't.

Words still were stuck in your throat, and all you could do was hide into him, concealing your eyes in his broad frame. Sukuna carried you down the steps, taking you away from the horrific scene staining the lighthouse you loved.

But carried you where, exactly?

Because the further you went down, the closer you could hear it – sounds of struggle, of pain and violence. Battle cries and two many pairs of boots thumping on the ground nearby.

It was never this loud around here.

"What's happening?" you asked, all focus shifting. Choso had said earlier that the lighthouse would be used as a base – is this what it was?

Why did it sound like fighting, though?

Was there fighting?

Was your family safe?

"I need to find Choso" you said immediately, attempting to leave Sukuna's arms, but his grip only tightened. "My brothers, I need to–"

"No" Sukuna grunted, tone final and sharp. "I'm keeping you safe"

It took you a second too long to understand the words fully.

But when you finally did, you started thrashing around, kicking and pushing and trying to get away from the man who held you. "I'm finding them" you protested, but Sukuna only let out a long sigh, turning you around so you could face him fully.

"Listen to me" he said, and his tone was so calm, so soft, that it did make you stop. "I'll find them, but I can't do that if I'm worried about you"

Something about how he looked at you… you believed him. Trusted him completely. The only thing that brought you a sliver of reassurance in this moment were his crimson eyes.

What in hell were you even supposed to do, when the world was crashing down all around you?

So you didn't resume the struggle, just let him hold you. Being alone terrified you, having Sukuna join in the middle of whatever battle terrified you, and not knowing where your family was terrified you more than anything.

But the way Sukuna looked at you… he seemed to understand.

He softly lowered you down, your feet touching the ground with a gentleness that wasn't expected from a situation like this. You used his arms to steady yourself, until you were sure you could stand up on your own.

You knew the lighthouse meant safety; but right now this room you knew so well felt cold and dark and full of ghosts.

"I'm scared" you admitted, refusing to let go of your grip on his forearm. Your hands were shaking, you realised.

And Sukuna noticed it too, taking the opportunity to place his palm on top of yours, pressing it ever so slightly to his warm skin. "I know" he murmured, thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "I promised I'd come for you, didn't I?"

You wanted to protest, but every word was lost to the wind when Sukuna came down to seal his promise with a kiss. You seem to relax under his touch, even just a little, but really, Sukuna's reasoning had been selfish – he simply couldn't bear to hear your voice break when you begged him to let you join again.

Even right now, feeling you shake and cling to him, it hurt more than a dagger to his back.

His hand left yours to cup your cheek, his other interlacing your fingers together. You felt so small under him, so fragile. Sukuna would have rather taken you far away, away from all of this, but he knew you'd never leave your family behind.

In an odd way for someone like him, he also wanted to protect them.

And that meant keeping you safe so he could do that. But it pained him to leave you in here just as much as it pained you to stay.

The kiss was tender, lingering for as long as you both could in the situation you found yourselves in. You were terrified it would be your last, and Sukuna would never let it show that he was just as scared.

When he tried to pull away, you couldn't bear to let him go.

"I can fight" you tried to say, as Sukuna took a blanket and placed it over your shoulders.

"I don't want you to" he replied, helping you sit on the corner, hidden among the furniture.

He had seen how you looked upstairs, when he failed to protect you. Sukuna could deal with that guilt later, but right now the one thing he was certain of was that he'd never allow you to be in that situation again.

And he saw how you suddenly looked both relieved and more worried at his words. "They would have sent my brothers to the beach" your brain started trying to map out every possible scenario, trying to hold on to him again. "There are caves to hide down there, they know it well–"

"I'll find them" Sukuna reassured again, taking your hands to his lips for a short kiss, and placing them gently back on your lap.

"There are boats, too, maybe they would have–" you kept saying as he readied himself.

"You have the key?" Sukuna interrupted. He had one hand already on the doorknob, looking over his shoulder to wait for your nod. "Lock the door as soon as I leave"

It was all you could do.

Sukuna hadn't expected to be back in this hell so soon.

He was foolish enough to allow himself to dream these past few weeks. To hope for a life that could be gentle, maybe even shared with someone else, the only person in this forsaken world that didn't see him as a killer and nothing more.

Stupid. This was all it ever came down to, and he should have know better.

As soon as he was out of the lighthouse, he was greeted by a very familiar scene. Men running, men crying, men strewn along the floor as the smell of their blood mixed with the sea salt in the air.

He didn't want you to see this, what war actually looked like. What it had done to your home.

He waited for the click of the door locking behind him, finally letting out a long exhale. His body struggled to move, picturing how you might look on the other side – were you still there, saying a silent prayer with your forehead to the frame? Were you crying again?

He hated this, but he had to move. Because this one time was indeed different; he wasn't fighting for the sake of it anymore.

Right now, he had a promise to keep.

Find your family. Keep you safe.

He could only hope you wouldn't do something stupid, but Sukuna tried to keep that possibility as far away from his mind as he could as he left you, and dove deeper into hell.

The first man who tried to charge him didn't even get a chance to fully lift his sword. Sukuna's blade had already slashed him across the middle, a movement as effortless as walking.

Fighting was second nature to him.

And Sukuna didn't want you to see that either.

Another soldier, even more stupid this time. The poor boy tried to turn around when he realised who he was facing, but Sukuna was fast.

Another one down.

Would you have been as disgusted by him as you were with yourself?

As Sukuna slashed through his enemies, all he could think about was how you had looked when that man was bleeding all over you. You were too fucking good for this world, too fucking good for him.

He wanted to protect you more than anything, and right now he was doing an awful job at that. Wasn't there when you needed him most earlier, and abandoned you to cry all alone in a room that probably had blood dripping through the ceiling's floorboards.

The least he could do was find your family.

But Sukuna recognised these uniforms, and he knew there were far more of his men than your brother's. The fighting seemed to have started not far from here, and the fact it had scattered to your home was just bad luck. Just what happened in war, when armies were forced to retreat.

The rebels must have learnt of the loyalist's plan to set camp up near the lighthouse, and set up an ambush up the road. Seemed the most logical conclusion – it's what he would have done, after all.

Just an order he would have given without a second thought.

Right now, his thoughts were clouded with regrets.

Sukuna rushed past the sweaty men clinking their swords, more worried about his mission than serving in his master's fight. He followed another source of light, as bright as the beacon and the moon up above both – it was the roof of the main house, set ablaze.

Sukuna growled at that, hating to see your home caught up in this destruction. Hating how normal it felt, too.

It's just what happened in war.

Men fought. Homes burned. Women suffered.

That truth suddenly brought him to a halt, blood running cold. Don't do anything stupid, Sukuna prayed once more, hoping you would stay put where he had left you.

He had to find them, and fast. The faster he did, the faster he'd have you safe in his arms again.

His boot kicked the wooden door, making it rattle on its hinges as it struggled to stay connected. The fire was hot above his head but Sukuna didn't care, looking in the most obvious place first and foremost.

"Choso?" he called, the name uncomfortable in his mouth. Sukuna kept moving through, using his elbow to hide his face in amidst the smoke, kicking every door as fast as he could.

He hated seeing your home caught up in flames like this. The dining table; where he had first taken a good luck at your beautiful face. His angel, come to save him. The room where you had stitched him together. Your room.

All gone.

Sukuna didn't know who was responsible for the fire, but they'd pay for it. He'd make sure of it.

But most importantly of all though, was the fact the space was empty.

No one was here.

There were signs that a fight had taken place, and your father's sword wasn't anywhere to be seen. Sukuna hoped they would have been smart and left, but he knew your family was as stubborn as you were.

Finally, he noticed the door all the way at the back – open, flailing in the wind. He rushed there, remembering the path behind the house where they would have certainly escaped from.

He didn't know if it would lead to anything, but it was the best clue he had.

Sukuna rushed through, coughing with the smoke, feeling the heat burn the hairs at the back of his neck, but determined to complete his mission.

Finally, he saw someone he recognised.

Sukuna had seen your brother fight before, and Choso had been talented then. But seeing how he fought to defend his home – it was more than that. Choso moved like an animal; bleeding and sweating but still going, slashing across another man as another two rushed to join the fight.

There were already three corpses at his feet, all in rebel colours. How long had he been fighting on his own?

Well, he wouldn't be anymore.

Sukuna ran towards him, his sword intercepting a blow that would have come right for your brother's neck if he hadn't been so fast.

"Sukuna?" Choso's eyes grew wide as he turned around to see who had helped him.

And he wasn't the only one – the other two men seemed utterly confused by Sukuna's interruption. They exchanged a look, unsure of what to do now that their commander had joined the fray… but on the other side.

"Focus" Sukuna said to Choso, effortlessly turning his sword around to slash the men's head clean off.

The other rebel looked terrified, motioning to run backwards before Choso ceased the opportunity to sink his blade into the man's middle, aiming it diagonally upwards towards his heart.

A clean cut, a fast death. As merciful as one could be in times like this.

Sukuna would have scoffed if it didn't remind him so much of you.

"Where are–" he started to say, but Choso was falling forwards fast as soon as the other man's body hit the ground.

Sukuna grabbed him by the shoulders, trying to keep him upright. "You're injured?" he asked, feeling the pain of his guilt only grow. If he had been too late–

"No" Choso panted, struggling to keep his breath in. Sukuna didn't believe him, but he knew what adrenaline could do to a man. "Is my sister–"

"She's safe" Sukuna reassured, and Choso breathed a little easier.

"Where–"

"Safe" Sukuna repeated. "Where are the others?"

"The beach" Choso tried to say, and Sukuna smiled at how well you knew your family. "My father can protect them, but if the soldiers are already down–"

"I'll go" Sukuna decided. "Go to the lighthouse, she's–"

"What? No" Choso protested, trying to find his footing though it was clearly a struggle. "I need to keep fighting"

Sukuna rolled his eyes, helping his old rival to stand once again. Only then he noticed the red staining Choso's shirt, right on his side. Not fatal, he hoped. A comical thought to have about someone he himself had tried to kill not too long ago.

But it explained why Choso looked so pale.

"You're as stubborn as your sister" Sukuna huffed, forearm to Choso's chest to keep him upright.

A rare smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Thanks" Choso chuckled dryly.

"Point me to where they are, I'll go–"

"Sukuna?"

The familiar voice snapped both their heads sideways, to the tall man atop the horse, tall above everyone else. His long hair flew in the wind, his heavy armour glistening in the light of the fire behind him. No one else had been dressed quite so flashy for this honourless ambush, but Sukuna didn't even need to look to know who it was.

He would have recognised that unsettling tone anywhere.

"How rude to join once the fight is already won" Kenjaku laughed, as if his clean armour didn't suggest just the same.

Sukuna gritted his teeth, angry. He was the last man he expected to see here, and the last one he hoped to too.

"And who is this?" his king continued. "Didn't know you to take prisoners"

"Not a prisoner" Sukuna said quickly, raising his voice to match his status. "A guest"

Kenjaku seemed awfully amused by that. "Guest?" he echoed, smiling.

"His family runs this lighthouse" he explained. "They took care of my injuries, and I'd hope to return the favour"

Kenjaku turned his head sideways, watching the scene. Choso, slumped forward with one hand to Sukuna's shoulder, trying his best to stay upright despite the blood quickly leaving him. And his once loyal commander, holding on to the boy in a way that suggested he actually cared.

"This boy wears the wrong colours" Kenjaku mused, fascinated.

"And still they allowed me to stay" Sukuna argued.

Kenjaku sighed, seeming to grow annoyed now. "So it is as Kento told" he shook his head. So his fellow men were still alive, it seemed. "Fine. Have the medics tend to him"

"Thank you, my King" Sukuna did a small courtesy, and the other man finally seemed to approve.

"You seem to have grown sentimental, Sukuna" he taunted. "Go clear the rest of them"

Sukuna nodded, looking ahead to the other soldiers still scattered around the battlefield they had made of your home.

He didn't have a choice.

Your hands were shaking where they gripped the blanket, hiding in the corner where Sukuna had left you. You felt useless. Uterly, completely useless, hiding like a scared child instead of searching for the people you loved.

What if none of them ever returned?

What if you were lost in here forever, or worse – found by someone who wasn't them?

In the darkness of this room, it was impossible to not let your mind wander. Every possible scenario to explain the loud sounds outside the door, every horrible thing to excuse the fact Sukuna had been gone for so long.

You hated it. This space was suffocating, and your imagination was even worse. All you could do was say your prayers, to whoever may listen, and wait.

Wait.

Until you heard it.

A knock. Sharp as you had grown to expect. A voice calling your name.

You ran as fast as you could, unlocking the door with trembling hands, cursing at yourself for how you failed this simple task.

But when it finally swung open, Sukuna was standing there. Covered in sweat and dirt and stains of red you didn't want to look at, but alive.

That was all that mattered right now.

But even in this state, you threw yourself at him, sinking your face onto the crook of his neck where you noticed a fresh scratch that hadn't been there earlier. Sukuna was fast to catch you, hands immediately dropping his sword to the ground so he could bring them to your middle and pull you in close, breathing in your scent.

Alive, the two of you exhaled the same thought.

"Did you–" you started.

"They're safe"

"All of them?"

"All of them" Sukuna confirmed.

You didn't even know what emotion was the strongest then. Relief? Gratitude? These seemed like such thin words to describe the weight of how you felt. It was all coming in a rush, finally a light shining to ease the dread you had spent the last hours in.

"Thank you" you muttered, sinking your head on his chest now. "Thank you"

Sukuna pulled you in tight, so glad to see you here, so glad to see you safe. If only he could keep you right here in his arms forever – but he knew that was impossible. At one point, sooner or later, you would have to come face to face with the state his men had left your precious home.

"We… can't stay here" he whispered to you, a hand at the back of your head to keep you right where you were. "Will you come with me?"

"Where?" you asked, already knowing what your answer would be.

Sukuna exhaled sharply through his nose, trying to figure out the best way to start. "We'll be regrouping near Kenjaku's castle" he explained. "He assured there would be a room for us, and your family too"

Maybe the good news would hold your focus, but Sukuna always knew you were too astute for that.

"Regrouping?" you echoed, lifting your head. "Do you mean–"

"Yes" Sukuna nodded, seeing the understanding start to turn behind your eyes.

"They attacked my home" you stated, a fact you were begging him to deny.

"They attacked the loyalists" Sukuna explained, knowing it wouldn't make it much better. "They were the ones who wanted to use the lighthouse as base"

You did seem to consider what he was saying, though your heart was heavy. "I don't want to be near them" you shook your head, sinking into Sukuna again. "I want to stay here"

Sukuna left a kiss to the top of your head, fearing the news he had to give. "You can't"

"Why?" your voice came out muffled against his chest, making this even harder.

Sukuna didn't know how to answer you. How could he tell you your childhood home, the place you loved, had been left to burn?

"Why?" you asked again, and again he couldn't tell you. He saw you look up at him with anger and fear all over your beautiful face, and push past his shoulder to move him out of the way.

Sukuna stepped to the side, allowing you to see the waste that lay ahead of you. He had expected you to collapse like you had earlier – but it seemed you were far beyond grief at this point.

Your hands balled into fists, your breathing stopped. "Who did this?" you tried to say, though your voice came out raspy and tight.

Sukuna sighed, bringing you back to him. "I don't know" was all he could say, as you allowed your head to be brought to his chest again. You weren't ready to look at it just yet.

"My family is safe?" you asked, with all the remaining strength you could muster.

"Yes" Sukuna confirmed.

"And they will come too?"

"Of course"

"Fine" you huffed. "Take us to your camp"

Your venom and resentment was dripping from every word, but your hand still reached for Sukuna's when he guided you out the door.

Being forced to face the aftermath was never something Sukuna enjoyed. Before he could have dismissed it and turned a blind eye – but it was impossible to do so when the person walking through the wreckage of their home was someone he cared about.

You didn't scream or sob once you saw it, but that was almost worse. It was like all fight had just left you.

Sukuna didn't know a way he could make this better, not when it was his men that caused this.

"Don't look" he warned you as he helped you up on a horse, but you didn't listen. As much as it hurt, you wanted to see all of it. Had to.

You didn't speak for the whole ride. Not when Sukuna sat you between his thighs, with one of his arms protectively holding on to your middle to keep you close, nor when you stopped to get some rest.

You curled against him in the night, and feeling your warmth brought him some comfort, but you couldn't reciprocate it. Everything about you had gone stiff.

The only time he saw you show some emotion was days later, when you finally made it to camp and requested to be guided to the medical tent where your family rested. Sukuna saw you fall in front of your brother, and Choso's arms close around your back even though he was the one laying on the stretcher. He saw your father place a hand to your shoulder to calm your tears, and the two little ones rush to your side.

And then he left.

Sukuna didn't feel like he was allowed to watch such a scene, when he had been the one to bring destruction into your life. Cursed, he spat on the floor, reminding himself of his condition.

He had done his duty, kept you all safe, bargained in your favour – perhaps it was time to let you go.

What a fool he was to think he could ever do that.

"It's good to see you're well" someone said amidst the busy voices at camp, a tone far gentler than Sukuna would expect.

He turned his chin up to see Kento walking towards him, armour still on after the battle. It was nice to see him, but Sukuna couldn't find any words to respond, settling with a short nod instead.

"I am sorry about the lighthouse" his friend said solemnly, coming to stand next to Sukuna. "Is she in there?"

He wanted to huff and spit in reply – how sorry could he be if he was one of it's attackers? But Sukuna knew better, and Kento was but a soldier. Not someone who could have prevented this; no, the only person who probably could have was Sukuna himself.

"Yes" he replied, hands deep in his pockets as he looked at the rocky floor below. Sukuna had grown accustomed to the distant sound of crashing waves, and their lack was extremely loud right now.

"How are–"

"They're alive" he cut in. Kento nodded, satisfied with the answer.

"I heard her brother is in there" he continued, voice low and meant only for Sukuna. He didn't need to complete the thought for Sukuna to understand what he meant – no doubt treating Choso wasn't just a show of mercy from Kenjaku.

"He's not of rank" Sukuna groaned. "Just a boy playing at war"

"I know" Kento agreed. "I'll doubt that'll stop them getting any information they can out of him"

Sukuna finally kicked the stone he had been staring at, sending it rippling across the field. Of course nothing was every easy. "I'll ask for an audience" he decided, turning around to face his friend fully.

Kento nodded, trying not to linger on the subject. The two men stood side by side, taking in the movement all around them – such an odd thing, when the world seemed at a standstill.

"How are the others?" Sukuna muttered.

"Alive" Kento answered. "And well, too"

"Hm" Sukuna exhaled, the best he could do.

"Naoya is dead" Kento continued. "I trust that is good news to you"

"It is" Sukuna crossed his arms, remembering the reason he had sent the boy to his death in the first place.

"There were search parties when they found his body" Kento explained. "That's when they found us, too"

"That so?"

"We explained what happened" he continued. "Convinced them the lighthouse wasn't worth searching, that you were recovering there"

Sukuna rolled his eyes, all this seeming like part of a life he had half forgotten already. He didn't care for Naoya or Kenjaku or strategy – the only thing he cared about was in the tent right behind him, crying.

Because of the men standing all around.

His men.

"You attacked it anyway" Sukuna spat.

"The enemy forced our hand" Kento explained solemnly.

He knew it was true.

"Sukuna?" another voice called, and he was glad to see Toji standing above them, that scarred lip almost forming a smile. But he extended a piece of parchment, with lettering he recognised too well. "Kenjaku wants to see you" he explained.

Sukuna grunted but nodded, scrunching the invitation into his pocket. But just as he started to move, Toji stopped him again, nodding to the tent Sukuna had been guarding.

"Her too"

"So" Kenjaku started,sitting upon his throne with all the arrogance of a King and the dignity of a street urchin. Sukuna hated the man, hated his sense of self importance and how he saw people as pieces on a game board. And what Sukuna hated more than anything – was the way he was looking at you right now.

"My most precious commander disappears in the middle of war" he continued, chin resting on his knuckles. "And comes back with an enemy, two children, and old man, and… Pardon me, miss, I don't think we are acquainted"

He had that pompous smile dancing across his lips as he addressed you, waiting with all the patience in the world just to see how you were going to respond. Sukuna stood with his body half covering yours, but he could just about see how tense you looked behind him, your hands grasped together to hide their sweat.

Sukuna's fingers twitched, earning to grasp yours, but he only held his hand close. He knew how unpredictable his King could be. Especially in a room surrounded by soldiers in armour, closing in on you both like this was a criminal trial instead of a celebratory reunion.

"Well?" Kenjaku pressed on.

"She's with me" Sukuna snapped before you could give him your name, tone territorial as his body stepped to fully cover you. Gratitude swam in your chest, but it wasn't enough to calm your fears just yet.

"By the gods, Sukuna" Kenjaku laughed, throwing his head back in delight. "There is no need for such jealousy, my friend"

Sukuna huffed, rolling his shoulders back. "It is me who must atone" Sukuna reasoned. "Let her go and rest"

"Oh, you will atone" the king responded, leaning back into his seat. "But right now… I am curious"

Sukuna remained quiet. He should have known better, should have expected the whole camp would be talking about his disappearance and the woman he insisted on guarding since.

If there was one thing Kenjaku enjoyed, was knowing people's weaknesses. Ally or otherwise.

"It is rude not to introduce yourself" he challenged, and Sukuna heard your breathing hitch behind him.

"She has been through enough" Sukuna argued.

And it was true.

You had, and he blamed himself for it.

And now here he had gone and trapped you into another viper's nest.

"Explain, then" he rolled his eyes. "Since this girl seems to be mute"

Sukuna inhaled deeply, considering his words very carefully. It took everything in him to not attack this king right there, just for the way he spoke of you. But he knew he had to be careful here.

"They tended to my wounds" he explained.

"And now you ask to drag them to my camp?" Kenjaku rose an eyebrow. "Quite the odd payment"

"Their home was destroyed" Sukuna argued through gritted teeth.

"The price of war" his king waved a hand. "Quite a shame"

The whole room felt suffocating with the dozens of stares – he knew other people were scared of him, but they seemed even more fascinated by you. By this woman who had the fearsome Sukuna acting like a sworn shield.

He was ready to fight each and every one of them if he had to, but before he could speak again, he heard your voice coming from behind him, your name leaving your lips.

Kenjaku finally seemed terribly amused.

You had stepped fully next to Sukuna now, lowering yourself in a small reverence. Sukuna should have expected it – you were as brave as you were foolish. "It's an honour to make your acquaintance, my King" you said, voice still shaking at the edges, but these were the first words Sukuna had heard from you in days.

And for that, he was relieved.

"So she can speak" Kenjaku hummed, delighted. "Maybe you will give me some explanation, since my knight has forgotten himself"

Sukuna swallowed thickly, his jaw clicking as he tensed it. He knew you were intelligent, but you didn't know Kenjaku like he did.

"I know nothing of war, my liege" you continued. "My family controls the lighthouse, or, controlled" you corrected yourself, pain dripping from each word.

"Yes, so I hear" he squinted his eyes at you. "A base for the enemy, and yet you call me King"

Sukuna was ready to intervene, but you continued. "I know nothing of that, my liege" you said, composed. "My brother has fought for the other side, it's true, but has since recognised the error of his ways and–"

"Please, girl, there's no need for deception" Kenjaku waved you off with his hand, opening another smile as he relaxed onto his chair. "I know all about your traitorous brother"

"He–"

"He's helped me" Sukuna interrupted you now, as soon as he heard the tears starting to form through your voice. Your head snapped to him, eyes wide and terrified, like Sukuna was hope personified. "Choso betrayed his men for our cause"

Kenjaku seemed annoyed now that Sukuna had joined the conversation again, his lips pursing sideways as his finger tips tapped the hand rests. "Why?"

Sukuna swallowed, your eyes on him burning more than all the others. "He's recognised the pretender for what he is"

Kenjaku was still not satisfied, seeing trough Sukuna's shameless flattery far too easily. He only scoffed, and kept waiting, giving him time to come up with the truth or a more convincing lie.

What the hell was Sukuna supposed to say?

Because I love her? They'd find it ridiculous.

But he didn't have any other explanation.

"My King" Sukuna knelt fully, the greatest show of respect. "I have done much for you, I only ask one thing– spare them"

This action alone seemed to please him, however. "I can't remember the last time you've knelt, Sukuna" Kenjaku laughed, one eyebrow perched up on his forehead. "Is this whore really worth it?"

Sukuna kept his eyes on the floor, knowing Kenjaku was just trying to taunt him. To get a reaction. And he hated that it was working.

"You left, Sukuna, and now you ask for mercy?" Kenjaku continued when it became clear Sukuna wouldn't. "I should kill her right now to show you respect"

Sukuna snapped into action as soon as the words left his Kings lips, standing up just as two men in armour stepped in to hold you by the arms. For the first time, Sukuna could see your face fully – scared, terrified.

"Fucking touch her again and I'll kill you" Sukuna threatened, sword already unsheathed, and at the very least you did feel the two men loosen their grip.

But still, you looked at Sukuna with wide eyes that screamed for help, but this wasn't a fight the two of you could win with strength alone, not when you were surrounded like this.

You had to think, and you had to think fast.

"Stop" you yelled, forcing them all to listen. "I am with child"

At that, the whole room came to a halt.

Sukuna hoped no one would notice how he looked at you so utterly confused, his thick brows squinting together before his brain understood what you were doing. The two men had let go of your arms, looking to Kenjaku for instructions.

But all he did was let out a very, very long laugh, that reverberated through the whole hall.

"So that's what this is about?" he continued, enjoying this far too much. "I thought you were smarter than to sire bastards, Sukuna" he laughed.

"Not a bastard" he replied, embarrassed at how that obvious lie had made him feel inside.

"Oh" Kenjaku hummed. "Has my commander fallen in love?" he mocked.

Sukuna swallowed thickly, but held your gaze as he gave his final word. "Yes" he confirmed.

He thought he saw a small smile try to tug at your lips, the first one in a long while.

"How touching. Fine" his King sighed, sounding utterly bored now. With nothing but a wave of his hand, he dismissed the men around you. "Guards, show them their room. I won't harm your family – yet. But they'll stay here"

"T-Thank you, my lord" you tried to say.

"And Sukuna" Kenjaku completed, as you both turned to leave. "I hope to see you at camp soon enough"

"Are you mad?!" Sukuna flew to your side as soon as the household guard shut the door behind him, the large bedroom greeting the two of you. He didn't bother looking around, no, all he cared about was bringing you close, cupping your cheeks with his gruff hands.

You only laughed at his hurried embrace, resting your forehead on his. You were clearly proud of yourself, and Sukuna couldn't deny it – you were too smart for your own good.

Still, the biggest threat was dealt with. For now.

"Don't I deserve some thanks, sir?" you teased, and Sukuna let out an annoyed tsk just above you.

"You fool" he huffed, lowering his hands to pull you into his chest. "You shouldn't have said anything, you–"

"Did you mean it?" your voice interrupted him, so small he wasn't sure you had actually meant for him to hear it. Maybe you weren't sure either.

So Sukuna pulled you back just a little, lowering his head so it was closer to yours. "What?"

"You have fallen in love?"

Sukuna's shoulders tensed, his fingers digging into your sides. The question was preposterous, as surely everyone would agree. There should be no such thing as love for someone like him – he wanted to protest it, deny it, claim you were too good for such a man.

But he didn't.

"Yes" Sukuna admitted, the word falling off his lips far easier than he would have ever expected.

What was the point in denying it now?

Maybe this would have been his biggest act of selfishness, but the beautiful smile forming on your lips made him not care.

"Do you mean that?" you whispered, and he hooked his finger under your chin to force you to face him.

"Yes" Sukuna repeated.

He wasn't good with words, so he proved it to you the best way he could. A slow kiss, warm and tender, one he hoped would prove to you how terrified he was of losing you.

Even the fight being over did nothing to calm Sukuna's anxieties on the matter. For the days ride you had barely exchanged a word, and Sukuna had feared you had finally seen him for what he truly was, and shut off your heart completely.

There were no words to explain his happiness when you reciprocated the kiss, leaning into him with enough force to prove your devotion.

Life could be so easy if it was always like this. Of course, that was rarely ever the case.

"We are not out of danger yet" Sukuna broke the kiss, thumb brushing the skin of your stomach as he remembered how your cunning had saved you both. "They'll know you weren't telling the truth in a matter of weeks"

"Then make it true"

"…What?"

Was it just him, or had time stopped for a second?

You brought your hand to rest on top of his, pressing him ever so slightly into your flesh. Your eyes stared at his behind long eyelashes, your face the happiest it had looked in days.

"Make it true" you repeated, mouth just inches from his.

Somehow, you had left the powerful Sukuna speechless. Perhaps you weren't just cunning – maybe you were a witch too. A sea witch, come to steal his heart that night he had thought you an angel.

"You are betrothed" he reasoned, more to himself than to you.

"I don't want to marry a lord I've never met" you replied, steadfast. "I want to marry you"

Did Sukuna ever fathom he'd hear these words?

Maybe he had been killed in battle, and this was heaven.

"You don't know what you're saying" he whispered, though his fingers were tensing, digging into your flesh. Gods, you made this so hard for him.

"I do" you swallowed, bringing your hands to his pink strands now. "You saved us"

That made him pause.

This whole time, Sukuna had been chastising himself for all that had happened, believing you blamed him too.

He would have never suspected you were grateful.

"My family is alive because of you" you kept saying, tears starting to stream down your face. "I am alive because of you"

There was a knot the size of a rock inside Sukuna's throat, keeping him silent as he heard you say the most meaningful words you could have to him.

"You kept your promise" you smiled, even amidst the tears.

Sukuna pulled you close, resting your forehead to yours again. "I couldn't live with myself otherwise" he confessed.

"I don't want you to leave me again" you cried. "I want you to make me yours"

Sukuna couldn't help a scoff, a hand pulling the back of your head to him as he adorned a mesmerised smile.

"You are already mine"

And with that, his lips were on yours again. Restless, inevitable, all consuming – a kiss that was like a ship sinking into the ocean, slowly accepting the truth that couldn't be avoided anymore.

For Sukuna's smug words, he knew he had been yours far before you had been his. From that first night, when you saved him. And saved him again and again and again.

Made him believe there was more he could be.

"Sukuna–" you whispered his name, throwing your neck backwards as he leaned down to explore the flesh there, leaving open mouth kisses all over. One of his large hands had traveled to your thigh, pulling it against him, holding you upright so that you didn't have to.

So that you could just give in to all the pleasure he wanted to give you.

This was mad, he realised. But the whole world had already gone mad way before this.

"Sukuna" you moaned again, hand pulling strands of his pink hair, his lips coming lower to your collarbones.

He exhaled, biting your shoulder playfully. "If you keep saying my name like that" he panted. "I won't be able to stop"

"Don't stop" you pleaded, nails leaving small half moon marks on his skin.

With far too much ease, Sukuna lifted you up and carried you to the mattress in the centre of the room. He lowered you down, gently, making sure there was a pillow behind your head and your clothes weren't all askew.

You were nervous, feeling your heart hammering inside your chest and an unfamiliar heat pooling between your legs. You had never been touched like this before, had never expected you would have begged for someone like this.

Sukuna's gruff hands were gentle as they caressed your flesh, tenderly squeezing your legs as he started pulling the fabric of your dress to your waist. You had read about this in books, thought you had some idea as to what expect.

But then Sukuna stood up, and you were utterly confused.

You pushed yourself up on your elbows, squinting at him for just long enough to see him grab you by the ankles, pulling you all the way to the edge of the mattress.

Your brows were completely knitted together as you saw him sink to his knees, a very amused grin visible on his lips before they disappeared.

Disappeared, and… touched you somewhere very unexpected.

"Wh-what are you doing?!" you yelped as his head sunk between your thighs, feeling an odd mix of pleasure and shame as soon as what was certainly his tongue had touched you in the most intimate of places.

Sukuna didn't bother explaining, because he knew you'd understand soon enough.

Two of his hands closed your thighs around his head, forcing them shut between his head. How was he breathing?! you thought, but all thoughts suddenly started fading away. "Oh" you moaned, back arching off the bed.

None of the books said anything about that.

"Stay still" he grunted between your legs, but you could have sworn he was laughing. It was, in fact, impossible to remain still, when Sukuna was so good at being so depraved – his tongue alone making you see stars as he kept drinking from you like you were the finest wine.

Your body acted like it wanted to run away from him, but your mind wanted nothing more than to stay right there. It was an odd thing, how he made you so sensitive you felt like you had no control, like your body was just acting on it's own and squeezing and tensing and gasping and then… Soaring, far above the sky.

A feeling like nothing you had ever felt before, washing all over you like the sun coming out after a storm.

The books didn't tell you about that, either.

You blinked slowly, completely lost in a daze as you saw Sukuna climb on top of you, his face a wet mess. Had you done that?

"Am I making you feel good?" he teased, right to your ear, and you felt yourself shiver all over again. How did he make you react like this, so easily?

"Y-yes" you replied, hypnotised by him. His smile was bright and smug when he brought his lips back down to yours, letting you feel your taste on his tongue, completely unashamed.

"Do you want to stop?" he asked between your lips. You only shook your head no.

That was all the confirmation he needed, before he started untying your dress, loosening the fabric all around your skin.

Instinctively, you brought your hands to hide yourself. You had never been seen like this before, and a million thoughts invaded your head. Would you be… sufficient? Would Sukuna think you beautiful? Would he be disappointed?

The man had just been between your legs, but the idea of being completely naked by candle light in front of the man you loved… it made you far tenser than you had ever expected.

You had read about how much a woman was expected to prepare before her wedding night, and now it was only just downing on you how impulsive this all had been. Should you have prepared more? Would you manage to please him at all?

What if you couldn't and–

"Don't hide from me" Sukuna whispered, softly caressing the top of your hand where you held on to your breasts. The touch was so tender that you found yourself nodding, slowly lowering your hands despite the heat in your cheeks.

If you had any doubt about your adequacy, it was all gone when you saw Sukuna's face then.

You had seen him angry, scared, murderous. But you had never seen him quite so…infatuated.

His mouth had fallen into a silent gasp, so completely focused on your naked form even the tattoos around his face seemed to soften. "You are beautiful" he whispered, testing how it would feel to slowly cup one of your breasts, watching for your reaction every step of the way.

You swallowed thickly, happiness mixing in with the anxiety. "I like this" you nodded to his hand, how it was exploring your flesh, the pad of his thumb just slowly rolling one of your nipples.

Sukuna watched you as you spoke, bringing his other hand to give the other equal attention. You completely lowered yourself down, enjoying how Sukuna palmed at your skin with his hands, quickly followed by his mouth as his touch grew more rough.

"Mmh" you hummed, thighs squeezing together like they had before as you felt that heat start to pool again. Sukuna was utterly focused on your chest, his tongue rolling each nipples and mouth leaving wet kisses all over you.

It was gentle, but firm, and it left you desperate for more. Your eyes blinked open in your lustful haze, realising he didn't match you in your nakedness. "I want to see you too" you whispered, bringing a hand to pull at his shirt, and you watched his crimson eyes follow yours.

Sukuna seemed to understand, begrudgingly pulling away from your chest to sit back on his heels, and start pulling the shirt over his head. It revealed his chiseled torso, the scar from the night you had met, and all the muscles decorated by years of exercise and years of criminality too.

You found everything about him beautiful.

Every painful mark that told a story you wanted to ask him about. Your hands followed every dark line that contrasted against his skin, adorning his beautiful frame, from his abdomen to his thigh.

It only occurred to you then, that he might have been as nervous as you to be naked together.

"You are beautiful too" you whispered, and you could have sworn the tips of his ears turned a light shade of red.

Sukuna shoved you back down onto the bed, mouth finding yours and hips settling between your thighs. You were quick to respond, your legs pulling you into him like they once had done on the lighthouse floor, on that day you had been so ready to give him everything.

Before it all had taken a turn, and life become a nightmare.

But Sukuna had rescued you from that.

Right now, you couldn't be happier in your decision.

"Tell me if it hurts" he commanded, and you felt something start to press against you. Ah, that the books had told you about.

You nodded, interlacing your fingers together with his. You had expected pain and discomfort, but there was nothing of the sorts when Sukuna slowly started to enter you, patiently taking his time to work you open.

Still, you were struggling to accommodate his size.

"Is this, um, normal?" you questioned, worrying again about him finding you inadequate. Was it possible you were built so wrong you could never do this in the first place?

But Sukuna laughed, and slowly, he let go of one of your hands to bring it lower, to where you were connected. The tips of his fingers seemed to find the bundle of nerves he had been exploring with his tongue earlier, softly taking it between his thumb and index, the sensation alone making your body jolt again.

"Relax for me" he kissed the side of your face, hips managing to sink into you just a little bit more as you tried to do as he asked.

You had never read of this technique he was employing, but you weren't opposed to it at all.

The pleasure slowly did make you relax, and little by little Sukuna's hips sunk deeper, finally entering you halfway. He grunted on top of you, clearly struggling to not lose composure as well, while you relished in the sensation of being so completely full.

You had always hoped to lose your maidenhood with someone you loved, and you had actually done it.

Sukuna had saved you from that as well.

"Beautiful" he kissed the side of your face, taking himself the last few inches into you before entering all the way. You let out a loud whimper when you felt his hips connect with yours, but soon they started moving, and suddenly all the fears were wiped away.

This felt good.

"Oh–" you whimpered as Sukuna rolled his hips into you, pushing himself up just a little to watch your beautiful face as you took him for the first time.

You looked down to see where you were connected, mesmerized by the scene, but soon you looked up again – to his penetrating crimson eyes, and the handsome smile beneath them.

Sukuna had a trickle of sweat dripping from his forehead, threatening to fall on you, but you didn't care. You were happy to share everything with him, every fluid and sweat and every inch of you – what had once seemed so terrifying, now brought you nothing but pleasure.

Sukuna felt so right inside of you.

He enjoyed the way your eyes were turning to the back of your head, his fingers going back to massaging the bundle of nerves to make you feel even more electric. You clenched him and Sukuna responded with a groan, hips slamming faster and faster into you.

You loved this, loved him – loved how desperate he was to make you feel good.

Just as that odd sensation started to creep back up again, you pulled him by the shoulders to lay completely on top of you, almost crushing you under his weight, but you didn't care.

You wanted his mouth on yours when you felt that high again.

And like he had thought the same, you felt him jolt inside of you too, whole body tensing as something started to spill inside of you, along with your name echoing from Sukuna's lips.

What if you did become pregnant now, you found yourself wondering? There would be no need to tell more lies, then.

But you were happy to keep trying anyway, just to be safe – of course.

There was so much still left to do. So much left to consider.

But right now, you deserved this little bit of peace. To be held in your lover's embrace, to be touched by hands that worshiped you. By the man who you trusted to keep you and your loved ones safe.

And all else could wait.

✧ a/n this chapter was so much fun i really hope you enjoyyy!! i love these two so much. part of me actually wants to add an extra chapter but we shall see.... excited to hear your thoughts <33

ONE: Drip tip.

Three p.m. breeze hits your arms in fitful sways, residual sweat clinging to your skin slowly dissipating with the wind. Like most days, you’re somehow ruining your health one way or another. Aerosol curls inside your mouth and unfurls into the afternoon air, and with no time left in between, you huff in another inhale of the blueberry-flavored liquid. You turn your head and Satoru is already behind you, one hand, with a plastic bag wrapped around his middle finger, is in his pocket, definitely fiddling and circling the lining, one hand balancing a stack of books poorly.

Satoru’s footsteps stop right at your flank and on cue, you exhale out the vapor coating your throat, more aerosol coming into the air. Satoru clicks his tongue almost condescendingly, but after a year of chemistry with him, you’ve realized it’s simply his normal cadence. "You know, every time I see you with that thing, I lose a little respect.”

You lean harder against the metal guardrail bordering the convenience store's small parking lot, loosening your grip on your newly-bought pod. You spent the remaining pocket money you had on a random Tuesday to impulsively buy it off from Shoko. Tokyo had finally remembered it was autumn, and the wind had no mercy for bare legs. Five minutes before sixth period ended, you'd slipped into the bathroom and rolled your skirt another few centimeters anyway. Your chemistry teacher had looked at you over the rim of his glasses when you walked back in—equal parts disappointed and exhausted—but with ten minutes left before the final bell, neither of you had the energy to make it a discussion. A gush of wind hits the exposed skin of your legs once again.

"Good afternoon to you too,” you murmur, looking up at him. You grimace at his hand and its hold of the stacks of books, briefly wondering why the hell he didn’t just shove them in his comically nerdy, comically large backpack he’s had since tenth grade and for some reason refused to get rid of.

You tuck your pod into your palm, hiding the body from yours and Satoru’s eyes, though the tip is still visible. Satoru deadpans,  “You're inhaling chemicals."

"You're inhaling copier toner every time you print your notes at the school co-op,” you shoot back instantly, one restless knee idly slotting itself between the vertical metal railings. Your foot stretches out into the air through the small space and you look at Satoru expectantly, waiting for an answer. Looking at your playfully used leg, he frowns in faux thought.

Satoru balances his books carefully, taking a moment to respond. "...That's different."

"Because?" you query.

"The copier doesn't taste like strawberry,” he responds completely seriously. Satoru’s hand shifts under his books yet again, and you briefly wonder if his constant book holding—at least an hour since you left school—would give him scoliosis or not. Satoru’s eyes drift to your vape. "...What flavor is it?"

You raise both your eyebrows at this. Satoru huffs, setting down his stack of books on the pavement, no mind to how dirty it could be, or how ridiculous it could look. "I thought you hated it."

"I do,” when he retreats back to his standing position, he deadpans.

"So why're you asking?" scanning the plastic bag in his left hand before beckoning it over. Satoru complies, holding it up and you take out the boring vanilla ice cream you had asked him to get for you minutes ago. You tear off the wrapper and shove the ripped bits into your skirt’s pocket—thank god it’s Friday, no matter with dirty skirt pockets.

For all of the one year you’ve known Satoru, you’ve known him as a certified loser. Not necessarily a loser in your sense, you could care less about how he displays himself, you honestly think he’s pretty cool, granted if he’s not talking about gacha probabilities. But Satoru’s of course your typical nerd. No vaping, not a wince of alcohol, no skipping classes. You can commend him for that. "...Scientific curiosity.”

You bite on the top chocolate layer of your ice cream cone, Satoru watching intensely with his normal accidentally judgy eyes. You lick at your cone and the coldness mixes with the minty parts of your pod’s flavor. Realizing what he just said, you snort. "Oh my God,” holding your pod out, you nudge it towards his face, earning you a much bigger scowl from him. "One hit."

"I don't—"

Cutting him off, you tease. "Scared?"

"I'm not scared,” Satoru, holding his ground, crosses his arms, eyes ripping away from the vape to look at your face. You have the smuggest expression he’s ever seen, usually reserved for when you manage to fool him into buying you something at some dessert parlor (Suguru usually tagging along) or when you somehow manage to outsmart him in maths.

You look at him daringly. "Then?”

It takes one, two, then five seconds for Satoru to click his tongue with the smallest hiss, looking everywhere except your little e-cigarette, then finally settling his eyes on it. He takes it with a low grumble, which only strengthens in sound when he sees the smugness on your face not disappearing, instead becoming more apparent. "...Fine.”

He takes the tiniest inhale imaginable. Nothing comes out. You’re quite sure Satoru’s never hit even once in his life, maybe because nobody approaches him with intentions of corrupting him—unlike you—so you understand the amateurish attempt. Nevertheless, it doesn’t stop you from snorting. "You inhaled like you're sipping hot soup."

"I did inhale,” he defends, eyes narrowing at you.

"You absolutely didn't,” you shake your head. Before Satoru could even utter a word out, you cut him off again, just as he says I. You reach over, tapping his shoulder, "Breathe in first."

He tries again, vapor filling his throat. Half a second later, you hear the wretched cough resonating deep beneath his lungs. He doubles over and you can’t help yourself from bursting into laughter. You topple over yourself, smile stretching across yourself with glee from the hilarity of his attempt. Satoru glares at you, "Coughing does not—" another cough settles in his throat, "—indicate quality."

"You look pathetic,” you wipe away little tears almost threatening to stream out.

He glares, pointing an accusatory finger at you for god knows what. "My lungs reject mediocrity."

"That's the nerdiest thing you've ever said,” you state, retrieving your pod back and shoving it in the pocket of your skirt. You watch Satoru grab his books and a wave of secondhand pain washes over you. At least the books are tied but how the hell is he going to commute with that thing.

Snapping you out of your sympathy, Satoru comments. "...I have said much nerdier."

The next day, you’re walking back home—with Satoru of course, because after a month of knowing each other you realized that you lived around the same neighborhood and you boarded the exact same train—and absolutely tarnished after your first physics class. You slump down, and absentmindedly, you dig into your pocket to retrieve your vape and you hit it once, letting the vapor settle in your tongue for quite some time before rushing to a place where you can actually exhale.

Satoru, following behind you and eyeing it, points at you meekly. "...Can I try once more?"

You look over your shoulder, finally letting the aerosol out of your mouth. You hand it over without thinking. He takes another hit and still coughs. "Marginal improvement."

"Barely,” you murmur. Silence engulfs you both for a split second, only being cut by the sound of your grin a moment later. "You know what people do?" you grab your vape back from him, a mischievous glint already present in your eyes, "They kiss while passing the smoke."

Satoru’s eyebrows furrow, blinking. "...Wh?" he continues, "that sounds—inefficient."

"It is,” you laugh, near delighted. You already expect him to roll his eyes at your next suggestion and call you an idiot, sixty percent because you’re friends, forty percent because he’s a snob that won’t kiss anyone and hasn’t kissed anyone. "Wanna try?”

Instead, he shrugs. "Okay."

More silence settles between you two and you stare at him with mild confusion. Your hands fiddle with the vape and you debate whether to tuck it back in safely in your jacket or not.  "...Okay?"

"You asked,” yes, you’ve been friends with Gojō Satoru for quite some time. You can’t really deny that you’ve had a small, insignificant crush on him for… maybe four months now, but that’s about it. Satoru is pretty. Infuriatingly pretty, but again, that’s about it. Shoko thinks he’s pretty, Suguru sure as hell thinks he’s pretty with all the homosexual jokes he keeps throwing around at him. But Satoru is Satoru, and you value your friendship more than a romantic relationship with him anyway. You didn’t expect he’d be the type to casually go along with something like that.

"I was kidding,” you glare.

"Oh,” he pauses. "...Do you not want to?"

Your brain completely stalls and you glare at him, nearly like you’re disgusted. "I—" that couldn’t be more the case. You shake your head, trying to find the correct words—especially ones that don’t make you seem either like you’re rejecting him, or way too desperate. "...No—I mean yes—I mean—" you give up, sighing. “I want to.”

Satoru quirks a questioning brow at you, already leaning in. You jump at his motion but you quickly inhale a deep puff of the blueberry vapor, leaning in just as he does. It's soft, quick, barely there, and entirely too stupid for you to actually count as a kiss. Sure as hell was a kiss to Satoru though. You inhaled half of the aerosol in your mouth and transferred it to Satoru’s—you’re not sure if he caught it though at first, but you were proven he did when he started coughing lightly.

When you pull apart, you clear your throat. So."

"So,” you start, picking at the right words, "that was..."

"...A successful experiment?" Satoru shrugs, the joke landing with a casual cadence. You laugh at the absurdity, not minding that you just kissed one of your closest friends at a random whim mere seconds ago. You nod. Capriciously, Satoru adds, "Wanna do another trial?"

You nearly trip and topple over the curve.

TWO: Atomizer.

It’s only a week later, after grueling nights of studying past materials in your first year because you just had to pick physics as an electives not knowing two shits about physics, that you find Satoru by the vending machines with a blue vape, brand new, and certainly from a brand that Shoko usually carries around to deal with. He’s fidgeting with the thing, squatting while a paper is in his lap, looking concentratedly frustrated. Residual school air clings onto you, and you note that you and him are both still near school grounds. Satoru isn’t one to tamper with the reputation of your school and especially himself.

As if on cue to further your awestruck, Satoru takes a hit of the vape—now you can’t trick yourself into thinking that’s someone else’s and he’s just holding onto it for some reason—and you actually stop in your tracks. Who is this person who possessed one of your closest friends?

"...Satoru,” approaching him, you stand directly in his vision, brown loafers in his vision, shadow casting on top of him.

Looking up he gives you an awkward smile, “Oh,  hi.”

"You bought one,” you say quizzically and if you looked close enough, amusedly. You never took Satoru for someone to have some weird fear or missing out, neither did you think he was the type to become addicted after one singular puff. Nevertheless, the thought of the Gojō Satoru, the guy currently representing your school for regionals in a robotics olympiad, casually vaping after trying it the first time a week ago, is deeply funny to you. “Why do you have one—you hated mine."

"I disliked yours,” he corrects like it’s common sense. "This one is mint."

Your eyes drop down from his eyes, down to his vape, down to his notes, those perfectly color-coded and coordinated notes that you sadly rarely see because all he gives you are his ugly in-class notes instead. You squat down beside him, taking his pod and examining it. In retrospect, you feel quite embarrassed that you’re so worked up over something as common as an e-cigarette, and it shouldn’t and doesn’t bother you. "You bought a vape because... yours tastes better?"

"That was one contributing factor,” he simply replies, hand skimming the pages of his binder once more. The high-pitched and annoying chime of the school bell rings from a couple meters away. You sulk. You came out of school grounds with a permit just for a soda and was hoping to get back immediately but you spent it all on talking with Satoru.

"You are unbelievable,” you mutter, turning your body to the vending machine and putting in your money. You punch in the buttons and soon enough, two peach sodas at the top row drops and clacks against the mouth of the vending machine. You take both and throw one at Satoru, opening the other.

"I've been told,” he smiles, catching the can.

Satoru vaping is a funny thing. All your friends have gathered that. After cornering Shoko and asking if her ass had anything to do with it, and her confessing quite transparently, you quietly deduced that Satoru is just trying things out. New bad boy in training. Several realizations have dawned on you since the first time you caught him carelessly (though knowing him, anything but careless, even if it was only meters away from school) holding a blue mint-flavored pod.

Firstly, vaping doesn’t suit him. Not necessarily because he’s bad at it, he’s gotten quite good in the week he’s spent doing it and being extremely open with your usual table at school—Suguru, Shoko, you, him—but because Satoru simply isn’t the type.

Secondly, Satoru doesn’t talk about it. One day, while you’re at some open-air coffee shop that allowed vaping near school, he just pulled it out while the four of you were sat on the table, laughing about how one of your mutual friends got caught reading a book below the table by your history teacher and lied that she wasn’t when it was completely allowed. One hit, then two, he doesn’t even pay attention to how Suguru’s jaw dropped. None of you were used to it but of course, it was funny nonetheless.

The third, you don’t know yet. But you know that it takes embarrassingly little time for everyone to stop reacting.

Now you’re remembering. The first day, Suguru nearly choked on his melon bread when Satoru casually fished the little blue pod from his blazer pocket between classes, earning himself a solid smack to the shoulder from Shoko because, "Quit acting like he's smoking crack." By the third day, the novelty had worn off entirely. Satoru would take one, maybe two drags while waiting for the train, tuck it neatly back into his pocket, then launch into an entirely unrelated explanation of why your physics teacher's grading rubric disproportionately rewarded memorization over understanding. You'd already stopped laughing at the sight by then. Mostly.

"...You look weird with that thing."

Satoru glanced up from the margins of his notebook, pencil still tucked between his fingers. His brows pinched together in genuine confusion, not even bothering to pocket the vape before answering. Coldness touches your fingertips; the coffee shop here is extraordinarily good facilities-wise, but don’t ask about the coffee itself. "How?"

"You look like you're pretending to be cooler than you are," you reply, reaching over to flick the edge of the pod with your finger. It barely budged in his grip. "Which is saying something, because you're the least cool person I know."

"I wasn't aware coolness was measurable,” he closes his notebook with one hand, expression completely level despite the offense you were very obviously trying to inflict. "...What's the unit?"

You open your mouth, only to realize you don’t actually have an answer. After several deeply contemplative seconds spent staring at the ceiling of the classroom, you settled for a shrug. "I don't know. Vibes?"

One afternoon, Suguru plucked the vape straight out of Satoru's hand before he could take another hit. Satoru stopped mid-motion, eyes following the little blue pod now dangling carelessly between Suguru's fingers. There wasn't even annoyance on his face. Just mild inconvenience, like someone had moved a bookmark he'd been about to use. "...Suguru."

"Hm?" Suguru hums innocently, already inspecting the thing like he'd discovered a strange species of insect. He flips it over once, then twice, lips quirking at the pristine condition. At this point, it’s been in his hands for two weeks, and you've seen him use that thing seven times.

"I was using that,” he frowns, sighing when Suguru simply says he noticed. "Give it back."

Suguru lifts his arm higher the second Satoru reaches for it, grin growing wider with every centimeter the vape traveled farther from his reach. You don’t really think you enjoy bullying your friend, and usually Satoru isn’t the butt of the joke, but it’s amusing either way. "Say please."

Satoru sighs through his nose, sounding deeply inconvenienced by the concept of manners. He glanced at you, perhaps hoping for sympathy, only to find you already biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. "...I could just take it."

"You could," Suguru agrees. "But that'd be rude."

Silence helps nobody. Eventually, he resigns. "...Please,” the word left his mouth with all the enthusiasm of someone reading terms and conditions aloud. You laughed so violently your peach soda fizzed up the wrong way, coughing into your sleeve while Shoko looked between the three of you like she'd somehow become responsible for an entire kindergarten class.

You doubled over the cafeteria table, nearly spraying peach soda through your nose while Shoko looked equally unimpressed by the exchange. Satoru accepted the vape back with all the dignity of someone collecting a confiscated calculator, brushing invisible dust off the casing before slipping it between his fingers again. "...You all derive an alarming amount of joy from my suffering."

"Mostly yours," Suguru admitted.

The funniest part, at least to you, wasn't that Satoru had started vaping. It was how catastrophically academic he'd become about the entire thing. Not nicotine—not once did he ramble about nicotine—but the device itself. You'd make the mistake of asking one harmless question outside the convenience store and suddenly he'd be explaining coil resistance with the same seriousness he used when tutoring you in chemistry, phone already unlocked to some forum full of people arguing over battery capacity.

"...See, disposable pods are significantly less efficient in the long run,” was what he said three weeks into the whole vaping fiasco. You’ve gotten somewhat used to it. But still, like a monkey fussing over a banana, you were still amazed that you somehow made Satoru into someone who owns a vape. "And because the battery output isn't adjustable—" he continues even when you only hum with a nod, "it compromises flavor consistency."

Satoru lowers his phone. "...Are you even listening?"

You tear your attention away from the crow currently losing a fight to a pigeon over an abandoned onigiri wrapper. You weren’t, of course. YOu know you will probably be interrogated by him and asked to repeat what the hell he just said. You lie anyway which earns a sigh. "...Absolutely."

Eventually, curiosity got the better of you.

You caught up to him after school, right as he was stuffing worksheets into the clear folder he insisted kept them "psychologically organized," the vape balanced absentmindedly between two fingers while he worked. You nudged his shoulder with your own, waiting until he'd actually acknowledged your existence before speaking. "...How much did that thing cost?"

Now you’re a little too accustomed to how much Satoru uses the thing. Not enough for it to be concerning of course because vaping is harmless, in most ways. He answers almost immediately, like he'd anticipated the question sometime in the past week and had rehearsed the answer in his head. He names the price plainly, without a hint of shame or hesitation, before going right back to underlining a formula in fluorescent yellow. Your jaw drops.

"You spent that much?" you ask, voice pitching higher than intended. A couple of students from the neighboring table glance over before immediately deciding your conversation isn't worth eavesdropping on. You point accusingly at the vape, then back at him. "On that?"

Satoru explains—well, he says that he got it from a friend—finally looking up from his notes. He says everything with complete sincerity too, as if that singular fact justifies every financial decision he's ever made. Satoru's eyes drift toward the ceiling with the unmistakable expression of someone deciding whether honesty is worth the consequences. His fingers drum absentmindedly against the edge of his notebook once, twice, before he sighs through his nose.

Suguru lets out a bark of laughter loud enough that someone shushes him from across the cafeteria. You bury your face into your folded arms, shoulders shaking with barely contained amusement, while Satoru simply watches the three of you with mild confusion, as though he genuinely doesn't understand what's so ridiculous. Even Shoko looks vaguely offended.

She finally tears her attention away from her phone, blinking at Satoru with the same expression one reserves for people who microwave fish in shared office kitchens. "...I gave her mine for, like, 3,000 yen."

Satoru's brows furrow almost instantly. "...You overcharged her."

"I absolutely did," Shoko replies without a shred of remorse, slipping her phone into her blazer pocket. "Impulse purchase tax."

"You told me market pricing was dynamic,” you murmur.

"It is."

"...So?"

Shoko shrugs, completely unbothered. "...You're my friend."

For a brief moment, Satoru simply looks between the two of you. His eyes land on Shoko. Then on you. Then on the vape sitting innocently beside his notebook, as though it somehow betrayed him too. "...I think I'm being bullied."

"You are," you and Shoko answer in perfect unison.

Suguru doesn't even bother hiding his grin anymore. He reaches across the table to steal one of your fries, shaking his head at Satoru with something almost pitying in his eyes. "Dude," he says between bites, "you somehow got scammed and became a vaper in the same week."

Then you finally get the third point, which makes you light up with joy. You realize it shouldn’t though, the weeks to come.

The third is that Satoru does it after every minor inconvenience that strikes him and not dramatically. You find it amusing, of course, at first. You’ve known how much his family expects of him since forever, and you certainly know how much of a perfectionist he can be. You don’t comment on it most times, but still, after two weeks of watching him take a hit out of the thing every time he gets a ninety-five instead of a hundred, you start noticing patterns.

You find him after a phone call, right at the vending machines near school that have a better array of fruit sodas compared to the perpetually ‘broken’ vending machines inside school. You wave at him and he grants you a wave back, brows furrowing as he listens to whatever it is the person on the other side of the phone is saying. When he eventually hangs up, he immediately reaches into his pocket. Click. Mint. Exhale.

You swat away the cloud that comes up to your face, stopping right in front of him. "...Everything okay?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "My mother."

"...Ah."

Another puff. Satoru turns his face away, making sure the cloud of aerosol doesn’t hit your face. There’s a slump to his shoulders, no doubt, from studying math until his ears bled because of how many dispensations he had during class because of his competitions and olympiads. "She says I should apply somewhere else."

“Aren’t your grades perfect?” you ask, trying to seem harmless, shoving your hands into your pockets, fiddling with a loose string in the lining. Satoru’s eyes briefly land on yours and he takes several seconds to respond to your question, like it’s the stupidest query to have ever been uttered. To be fair, it technically is. It’s rare for you to not know who Gojō Satoru is; plastered in the school halls as a poster boy for the academics guy. It’s unfortunate he’s also attractive.

"They are,” he replies, and automatically, like it’s something that’s simply a given, he adds," they can always be more perfect."

You don’t know what to say after that. You’re sure Satoru’s parents are demanding—you know they are, one of the rare subjects of your talks during second break—judging from the way he laments in the mornings during report card day, but of course you don’t know the extent of it. You have your own share of demands from your parents, but who can’t shoulder measly hopes and dreams from the people who raised you? But Satoru isn’t you and you aren’t Satoru. You awkwardly shift your footing. Then again, it’s Satoru, he’s full of surprises. You ask, helpfully, "...Mint?"

He raises a brow. Holding out the vape, Satoru watches you and expects you to take it. You’ve said that you liked his flavor before. You flail your hand to decline, now thinking of how many times does he really use that damn thing and how many times has he used it since he got it. “Keep it.”

Putting on a smile, you tug at Satoru’s sleeve. “Come back to class, I wanna show you something.”

THREE: Fire button.

Your classroom was freezing today, heavy with the gushes of air from the newly fixed air conditioning. You were shivering at eighteen degrees and sliding your hands inside your jacket, meanwhile your seatmate, Gojō Satoru of course, was leaning into the table, doodling on the margins of his stoichiometry notes. You’ve spent too many hours thinking of Satoru the past few days and you entirely suspect because you’re still too shocked about his newly found second habit of popping his vape out of his pocket to take a hit whenever the timing suits him.

Because suddenly, you realize the difference between him and you. Mostly that every time you use one, it’s purely recreational, just something you do to either seem cool and not completely wreck your lungs like tobacco does, or something you try to attempt cool tricks with aerosol. And yet with Satoru,  it’s something he does every time he gets a bad grade—when he bombed that one quiz, not really, he didn’t even fail he just got a 92 instead of a 100—or when he gets another phone call. A puff.

You don’t say anything about it though. Haven’t said anything about it. Class ends and everyone’s already packing their bags by the time you get snapped out of your day dream. Even if the CCTV cameras were out in your classroom, you know how stupid it is to inhale in your classroom. And yet, you find Satoru already pulling the damn thing out.

You frown. Grabbing his wrist, you tug on him, not enough to hurt, you’re not sure it could even hurt, Satoru’s too strong of a guy, leading him to wherever you please. The FamilyMart right beside your school. "Come on."

"...Where?" Satoru whines, though he doesn’t make an effort to release from your grip.

"Food."

He complains, already slinging his slowly slipping backpack further on his shoulder into a more comfortable position, digging into the blades of his shoulders. You’re a little bit mad to be honest that your school doesn’t open its west gate after school and you have to go around the main gate. It takes too long. "I'm not hungry.”

"I am,” you counter. Crossing the street and tugging at him very violently, he shakes his head at your antics. Arriving at the FamilyMart, you scan the area for a place to sit and when you do, you state: "You owe me."

"I do?" he asks, befuddled.

"You borrowed my calculator,” you say, completely serious, sitting down and settling your bag on the thoroughly loved outdoor sofa, with rips and bits that you’re sure hold as much bacteria as a yoghurt bottle. Satoru snorts and absentmindedly puts the vape away. 

Sluggishly, Satoru follows suit of the motion, setting his bag on the sofa and getting up from his seat when you do, approaching the FamilyMart. You’re hoping for some ice cream—the FamilyMart cone actually, if the machine isn’t broken—or at least something extremely sweet and extremely cold. Eventually, you settle with a milk tea you’ve made far too sugary. Satoru settles with dumplings despite not really being hungry.

Only a minute later after settling down in your seats again, he's looking for it again. Noticing, you slide the milk tea across the table.

"Drink,” you say, not really an offer, just a command that Satoru responds to far better than he should. Satoru eyes you carefully. You offer him lots of things often, but it’s in the nature of friendship to be suspicious of things your friends do.

He questions. "...Why?"

"Because I bought it,” pushing the plastic cup further to his side, you quickly retract it to take a sip of it yourself, brows furrowing as you try to suck in a particularly stubborn tapioca pearl. Sugar reaches all the way to the roof of your mouth and you slide the cup back to him.

"...Okay,” he drinks instead. You watch the vape from your peripheral and a smile laces your face when you see him pocketing the small device back instead of putting it on the table or taking a swig at it the second he swallows your drink.

Eventually, every interaction with Gojō Satoru, the now vaper turns into you coaxing him to do something. Because you realized Satoru needs something to keep him company. Something to keep him occupied so he’s not drowned with his thoughts. "Wanna walk home?" was the go-to you said, because being neighbors was a fun trick, and you always had stories to share to him because of your much enthusiastically social lifestyle. "Library?" is your second go-to because Satoru loves libraries.

You don't know when grabbing his sleeve became instinct. Maybe sometime between the third phone call and the fourth ninety-five. You stop asking if he's hungry. You just start handing him something to do before his hand can disappear into his pocket.

So the next is "I found a café,” which Satoru sees through. Not the trying to get him to stop vaping part, but the secondary part which he thinks is your main motive, which is just really wanting to get sweet stuff and try a bunch of cookies from different coffee shops. And the coffee. "Movie?" after school when he doesn’t have cram school. "Come quiz me,” when physics comes up and you spend fifteen minutes laughing at something abysmally stupid. "Help me with this,” that somehow makes him feel useful.

The one that you always use, technically, every single day when you have class together. "...Sit with me." How can he complain?

He starts saying yes without asking why, you can’t even begin to talk about the delight you feel.

You’re in the middle of the hallway when you find Satoru languidly walking to his next class, a stack of books in hand. You can understand holding a stack of books on the first day of school, but lockers exist and he doesn’t need to be carrying all of those books in the first place. You laugh with a bell-like jingle, raising a judging brow at Satoru’s occupied hands, the little cloud disappearing into the air. Satoru stares. You whip around, a frown tugging at your own mouth as you stare at the top book, your curriculum’s mathematics book. “Why are you carrying those?”

“Because they’re books,” Satoru blinks.

“You own a backpack,” you mutter simply, finger pointing at the heavy-duty backpack slung only over his left shoulder, probably because Satoru with all his intelligence, fully believes slinging the weight of his backpack will balance out his hand. He nods. At that, you frown at him. “So use it.”

“They wrinkle my notes,” he meekly says as if he knows you’re going to burst out laughing the second he utters his words. You don’t, but you scoff at him ridiculously either way, leg kicking microscopic dirt at him. Silence engulfs the two of you for not as much as an uncomfortable time, but enough for you to ponder. You come to his flank and smile, shoving yourself in his vicinity to the point where he flinches, half (fake) disgust and half-shock, “wanna get coffee later?”

“Uh, sure,” he shrugs one shoulder, careful not to upset the impossible equilibrium of books balanced in his arms. Eventually, after a class you don’t take with him, you meet up with the boy in front of the school gates, with you scrolling to your phone desultorily, the last Instagram reel you see being a niche food parlor near a district not far from you. 

When you see him from your peripheral—his shoes, actually, you shove the phone inside your pocket, nodding at him. You begin walking again, matching his pace automatically after months of taking the same route together. The afternoon sun spills through the gates, warming the pavement beneath your loafers. It isn’t until several steps later that your eyes drift toward the pocket of his blazer.

"...You aren’t touching it," you mention, narrowing your eyes at the lack of motion. Usually by 500 meters from school, he’s toying and fidgeting with it inside of his pocket instead of the seams inside, and by 600, he’s pulling it out and finding the nearest place where smoking’s allowed to take a hit.

"Hm?" Satoru hums absentmindedly.

"Your vape,” you slow your steps, feeling something get caught in your shoe. You check to see whatever it was but nothing is there. You frown, hopping on one leg for just a second, almost comedically.

He instinctively reaches towards his pocket before stopping halfway, looking down as if expecting the device to magically appear in his hand. For a second he simply stares at the outline beneath the fabric, brows knitting together with genuine confusion. Then, almost comically, recognition crossed his face. "...Oh—huh,” he hums, "I didn't even notice."

You slow to a stop without really meaning to, watching him more carefully than you had been lately. The blue disposable sat exactly where it always did, tucked neatly into the pocket he'd reached for dozens of times over the past few weeks. Except this time, he'd walked halfway across campus without touching it. Somehow, that tiny difference lodged itself somewhere uncomfortable in your chest.

"...I feel kinda guilty," you admit after a moment.

Satoru looks over. "For?"

You rub the back of your neck, suddenly finding the scuffed toes of your shoes far more interesting than meeting his eyes. It sounds ridiculous now that you actually have to say it aloud. People tried things all the time. Nobody accidentally turns their best friend into a vaper... probably. Whatever Satoru did after you gave him your vape was his choice and even if you made him do it the first time, it’d be stupid for you to be the reason for a guy to suddenly have a nicotine addiction. "I was the one who let you try it," you mutter.

A quiet laugh escaped him. "You think you corrupted me?"

"I mean..." you gesture vaguely toward the pocket where the vape still rested. "Evidence suggests I might've,” you hiss at the constant, sticky whatever it was stuck to the bottom of your shoe, profoundly more interesting than whatever response you or Satoru could conjure up in this conversation. "You bought your own."

"I bought my own," Satoru agrees, "you didn't make me."

The certainty in his voice makes the conversation stall before it could become an argument and you look at him like he just said two plus two equals five. Satoru slips the little blue vape from his pocket at last, though instead of lifting it to his lips like you expected, he simply rolled it lazily between his fingers. The plastic clicks softly beneath his thumb, catching glints of late afternoon sunlight. A cat passes by you and nuzzles at your leg and you resist the urge to pet it. You’re allergic. He watches it spin with an expression you couldn't quite decipher.

"...I think I just wanted something to do," he said quietly. “Something that shut my brain up."

You look at him without answering. There wasn't much to say to that, not when you'd caught glimpses of the phone calls, the perfect grades that somehow still weren't enough, the expectations he carried as naturally as those ridiculous stacks of books. Satoru doesn’t look at you while he speaks. His attention fixes very stubbornly on the vape that he turns slowly between his fingers.

"I mean, lately," he began before stopping. Satoru nudges the cat wedged between your legs, a carefully balanced toe-box caressing the cat’s chin. Or rather, letting the cat caress his shoe. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "I don't really think about it when you're around."

The words land so softly you almost miss them. Satoru continues walking, though still visibly befuddled. You blink once, then again, waiting for him to elaborate, to tell you he'd misspoken or that there was some perfectly logical explanation waiting just around the corner. There isn’t. He simply stood there looking faintly puzzled by his own admission. You catch up to him, looking up at him to do what you do; joke. “Are you confessing to me?” 

Satoru ignores you. "I keep forgetting it,”  Satoru agrees again, more to himself this time, sounding just as confused as you felt. You shift from his face to the untouched vape still resting loosely in his hand before a grin slowly tugs at the corners of your mouth. It was too funny not to say. The next joke arrives before your brain could stop it.

"So..." you began, trying—and failing—to suppress your smile. "I'm nicotine replacement therapy?"

Satoru considers the question with alarming seriousness, his brows drawing together exactly the way they did whenever he was solving a difficult chemistry problem, or when Miyagi-sensei said something stupid in class that made him want to take his glasses out and rip his eyeballs out of his sockets. For a moment you genuinely wonder whether he was going to start listing reasons why the comparison is scientifically inaccurate. Instead, he gives a tiny nod. "...That's one way to put it."

You laugh, bumping his shoulder. "You are impossible."

FOUR: Aerosol.

After that, catastrophe happens. Because everything you do somehow loops back to Satoru, especially in a place where he’s in. You being in his vicinity, at school, at the library, at anywhere, somehow you end up texting him or talking to him.

It starts with the night of that conversation. Satoru calls you an idiot through the phone because you called him on a whim right after you finished showering to ask about chemistry notes for tomorrow. Of course, he eventually put on his camera and with shaky fingers, pointed the extremely bad-quality video call camera to his notes for you to screenshot, not thinking of the much more efficient thing of simply taking a picture of them and sending them to you. Then the next day you start acting like you like him too much, which includes stealing his favorite hoodie, that one that smells too much like his horrible Axe cologne, but mixed with his own scent that you’ve somehow identified from a mile away.

You’re at the cafeteria, yawning as you drag yourself to your regular table. Shoko isn’t here yet, but Suguru is sleepily buried and engrossed in his sociology textbook and devouring a burger you believe his mother packed for lunch. You ought to think it’s because of his notoriously delusional, a little bit crazy sociology teacher who you’re not even sure actually qualifies to teach.

You throw your books to the table, a crisp smack resonating in the air. A couple of people look at you yet Suguru doesn’t even bother to look at you. You momentarily let yourself linger, hands on the table interrogatively. "Where's Gojō?" 

Suguru looks up, finally, but you’re already scurrying to the drinks vendor and buying yourself a bubblegum drink. Following your figure, he gives you a ridiculing expression. "You text him every morning."

"So?"

"So you know exactly where he is,” he says matter-of-factly. When you finally slide into the bench across from him and process his words, the end of your middle finger’s nail digs into the plastic cup from the force of your grip; Suguru tilts a peculiar head at this. This marks the first person to know that there’s something fishy going on between you two.

The first thought Suguru has is how strange your reaction was, of course, you only tighten your grip on something when you’re about to throw things—which normally happens when something agitates you or embarrasses you, it’s a terrible habit. The second thought is why the mention of you texting Gojō Satoru would get you worked up like that when you haven’t had a single bad interaction with him in four months, not counting when he spilled juice on your shirt three weeks ago after school. The third and final thought is that he wouldn’t mind seeing you and his bestest friend as an item—especially because Satoru has morbidly horrible game.

A small, infuriatingly smug smile plasters itself across Suguru’s face. There’s nothing wrong with the expression though, not exaggeratedly smug, so you have absolutely no ground to physically assault him. You instantly understand what his expression hints at and you hiss. “Fuck off."

The second person who notices is of course, Ieiri Shoko, and still at lunch.

Satoru is already sitting at your usual lunch table when you arrive, two cartons of strawberry milk set neatly beside his lunch, and fries he bought before the recess bell to time it perfectly for when they got here. The open air of the cafeteria is making way for very clammy people to  wiggle through small gaps and the humidity of the entirely too heating air to make you withdraw all your sweat. Suguru, is yet again, buried in his notes. You wonder why all the men in your friend group are intensely obsessed with studying while you and Shoko laugh and giggle around like lunatics during lunch. Suguru doesn’t even take the hard subjects, which he always threatens to punch you for if you say that in front of him. He takes social sciences and he just participates in debate and chess competitions.

Your eyes land on Satoru, already opening up his binder. You resist the gagging sound you want to emit when he does, just to piss him off, but you’re more occupied by the carton of strawberry milk. You, distracted, take a single stick of his fry, shoving it in your mouth. “You bought two."

"I know, [Last Name],” he says impassively, “I’m not blind.”

"...Why?" you say, tugging at his binder until it lands to your side of the table. Ssatoru doesn’t even whine for it, the same way when Suguru took his vape, he looks at you like it’s just a minor inconvenience. Somehow, you don’t notice the upwards curve of his lips as you do. Shoko certainly does; biology makes you incredibly keen on minor details.

He shrugs, taking out a physics worksheet tucked inside his binder and occupying himself with that instead. Leering at the piece of paper, you feel a small betrayal as your attempt to bother him fails. "You usually complain about not wanting to buy them.”

“Huh, thanks,” you're halfway through stealing more fries from Satoru's tray when he quietly slides the ketchup toward you before you even ask. You stop as if you’ve been caught red-handed. “I wasn't gonna—"

"You were looking at it,” he responds, staring up at you like he’s revealed your biggest darkest secrets.

Shoko watches the exchange, stealing a piece of his fries herself, taking a generous amount of sauce from the mini sauce place. Satoru glares at her and to that, she cheekily giggles. Though, it’s cut short by her own question, pointing a finger at him casually.“How did you know?"

Satoru doesn't even hesitate. "She taps her thumb twice on the table whenever she's deciding whether to steal my food."

"...I do not,” you frown.

"You do."

Insistently, you repeat. "I don’t."

"...gods,” Shoko looks at you. Then back at Satoru. Then at Suguru. Suguru’s already pinching the bridge of his nose, but the second he finds Shoko’s eyes, he understands exactly what she’s thinking. Because you aren’t subtle at all, and neither is Gojō Satoru of course. “Suguru,” she murmurs, leaning into his shoulder and whispering her next words, “our boy; he’s gone.”

Suguru sighs, “hopeless.” It would be better if Satoru, their best friend, didn’t have the emotional intelligence of a calculator—a scientific calculator, to be more precise.

So then, the third person to realize is you. You’re walking home again, almost exactly where the first time you kissed Satoru, almost near your neighborhood apartment complex. The pavement that nears the main road has been fixed, and it’s no longer as bumpy as it was around a week ago when some kids threw a damn rock at the spot and dented it. The sun is setting and cascading an orangey, pinkish sky, your bones feel like jelly after another day of school. You have a pork bun in your hand, half-chewn, and Satoru’s shoving a candy wrapper in his uniform jacket.

Eyeing him like a hawk, you see Satoru reach into his pocket. He doesn’t realize you’re noticing, and yet he pauses, then looks at the vape. He quietly slides it back into his pocket. You smirk at him teasingly, taking another bite of your pork bun. You take care to calculate just how many bites left for you to leave with the most satisfying bite. "No experiment today?"

"Hm?" he hums, squinting and pushing his glasses up as you approach your street.

"The vape,” you point and at that second, Satoru stops walking. You follow his motion, technically, lack thereof, and gaze at him quizzically.

"...Nah,” he steps closer and you’re forced to look up at him.

You swallow the last remains of the sweet meat in your mouth, suddenly very acutely aware of how Satoru smells; vaguely of sweat, the nice kind, and now citrusy cologne which you can’t deny you like. "Then what?"

A couple moments of silence wedges between you two like some unwanted guest. Though, even if you thought it was extraordinarily awkward and awaiting, it was bearable. Largely due to the fact that you didn’t wanna hear whatever could come out of Satoru’s mouth in a situation like this. And you didn’t want him to say something that would ruin you both.

You didn’t say anything about what he can do though. So instead of answering, he leans down. You curse him for his stupidly lanky frame in your head. Eventually, his lips reach yours and you physically feel the hair on your arms jolt awake, the muscles spasming as they press against yours. It’s longer than the first kiss you shared, and it’s certainly more impulsive. There’s no joke, neither smoke. Just warm lips and a smile he tries—and fails—to hide as if he’s been waiting to do that. When you separate, your face feels hot, and his feels too.

Satoru, of course, tastes like the jelly candy he just swallowed, strawberry coating his tongue. One of the main reasons you hang out with each other so much is because you’re one of the only people who can keep up with his sweet tooth. He once lied straight to your face that it was to mentally stimulate him. You taste like pork bun. It's rather disgusting when you think about it for more than a second.

“What did you do?” you rasp, voice coming out uneven, embarrassment fully draping itself on top of your form.

“Totally didn’t mean to do that,” he stammers out, reaching down to his pocket, tugging at the fabric inside and stretching it to his hand. You know he’s playing with the lining right now. “Sorry.”

You take a step back, laughing into her sleeve because you don’t know what else to do, hopelessly flustered. You take your time to gather yourself. You’ve been close to guys before. You’ve kissed guys before. You still didn’t know what the hell to respond with. “You're an idiot!”

"I've been told,” he agrees, stepping back too, fidgeting with his pocket.

"By me."

He agrees again, nodding. By now, a smile tugs at his face; you aren’t withdrawing, and you certainly aren’t showing any signs of being creeped out. Instead, you’re laughing nervously and looking anywhere but him, and even if Satoru apparently had the emotional intelligence of a—scientific—calculator, he understood from this that you liked him at the very least. "Mostly by you.”

He decides to go for it, "...Can I kiss you again?"

You’re appalled by the question. But the answer isn’t no. You pretend to think about it, shifting your weight from one leg to another. You still refuse to look him in the eye and Satoru is looking at you expectantly, though funnily enough, he can’t look at you either. “Only if you stop making everything sound like a research proposal."

"So that's a yes?" he asks. Giddiness laces the final syllable of his words.

“Go away,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss him first. Again, the disgusting pairing of food mushes in your mouth, and still, you don’t care. Satoru smiles into your lips again. So therefore; the final person to realize what’s been going on between you two probably isn’t Satoru. It could be you.

◟ ㅤ© kayuekou, 2026 𖥻 do not copy, reconstruct, or upload on other platform nor feed my works into generative AI.

notes ꩜ i think everyone knows what types of stories i like writing ugh. sorry 4 not posting for so long. making a longfic and i have school fucking me anal style. um. enjoy. anyway, i have a taglist, i have an ao3. comments and reblogs appreciated. byebye 𖹭

taglist ꩜ @tiffi26 ， @teaspecifically ， @v4mpyyb4tzz ， @nightmarenyxx ， @spectranix | typical taglist form